The Proposal
by JR Granger
Summary: Blaine Anderson is an aspiring fashion designer, and is assistant to Kurt Hummel aka Ice Queen. When Kurt finds out he's getting deported he decides to marry Blaine to stay - with the incentive being a promotion. - based off the movie The Proposal
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I know, I**_ know_**I should be updating my other fics, and I feel horrid about not doing so, but this idea popped into my head the other night and I just**_ had**_ to write it! Anyway, I really hope you enjoy it!_**

* * *

I cuddle closer into my pillows; seeking warmth in my frigid apartment (seems the heater is broken _again_). When I hear birds chirping my eyes snap open and glance at the clock which flashes midnight.

"Shit!" I exclaim, scrambling out of bed and into the bathroom for a quick shower. There's no time for gel so my hair's going to be curly and wild as fuck – and I can guarantee my boss will comment on that (probably something scything about how unruly they are and how they make me look like a puppy).

After pulling on the first pair of clothes my hand meets (_I am so fucking dead,_ I think.) – which still look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself – I rush out the door, satchel in hand, locking my apartment on the way, and thank the powers that be that I live only a couple blocks from the local Starbucks and that the office is just a few blocks after that. And while most days it's annoying, today I'm glad Sebastian, the usual morning barista, has my schedule and coffee order memorized because when I run in I'm not forced to wait in the extremely long line.

"Bless you," I gush as he hands me my coffees.

"Don't mention it," Sebastian winks.

Ignoring that, I somehow manage to dodge a shit ton of people as I weave down the sidewalk and across the street but as soon as I make it into the office and around the corner from my cubical, some idiot backs right into me, spilling my boss' coffee all over my front.

"Goddammit!" I grit out. "Watch where the fuck you're going!"

I make my way through the snickers over to a fellow assistant (to another designer at the company of course), Wes, and demand his clothes.

Wes scowls at me. "What?"

"Come on man, you're the only one anywhere close to me in size that isn't a girl!"

He glares, considering. "What do I get out of this?"

"Tickets to whatever Broadway show you want, just _hurry_ he'll be here in -" I pause to look at the clock, "- two minutes!"

We swap shirts quickly (his just barely fits my broad shoulders) and I'm changed just in time for my boss to walk in.

I hand Mr. Hummel his coffee as he walks by (not even a thank you but I'm used to it by now, sadly) and we head into his office.

"What d'you -" He does a slight double take and eyes me up and down. "Not your usual style Blaine – especially the hair."

I scuff the toe of my shoe on the carpet, a habit my mother failed to rid me of, blushing slightly in embarrassment and my crazy hair. "Yeah…" I say, hand scratching the back of my neck, "I just – felt like something different for a change."

Mr. Hummel nods in consideration for a moment before saying quietly, "I like it; you look good." Then he straightens his back and shakes his head slightly, as if banishing a bad thought before saying, "Now get that scared, confused look off your face; with your curly hair it makes you look like a fucking puppy," which is closer to his normal attitude. (_I __**knew**__ he would make a comparison to a puppy; someone __**always**__ does!_)

My admittedly oddly-shaped eyebrows encroach on my hairline, surprised by this sentiment but before I can really start to think about it (well more than just, _Did __**the**__ Kurt Hummel, ice queen, just say I look_ _**good**__?_), he gets onto business.

"Now what've you got for me this morning?" he asks, setting his satchel on his desk, sorting through some designs.

"Steinman called, they don't have any of the silk left in green, but they do have an emerald; Gucci requests sketches for the summer line by Friday; and immigration is on line two, something about your work visa," I inform him right away.

Mr. Hummel thinks for a moment before replying. "Tell Steinman we'll take the emerald, as much as they've got; I have the sketches right here, they'll be ready for you to take down to the post office by this afternoon; and put that call on hold."

I pause a split second – what if they're going to deport him? – before nodding. "M'kay, I'll get right on that." As I'm about to walk out the door he calls me back in.

"Umm – Blaine?" He's looking at the coffee cup. "Who's Sebastian and why does he want me to call him for a good time – with a winky face no less?"

I dither slightly on the spot. (_Shit, I haven't had a problem like this since my internship!_)"Um – that was originally my coffee."

"Hmm…" He glares at the coffee before taking an experimental sip. "And why am I drinking your coffee?"

I fidget, wanting out of there (even after two years his icy glare still makes my spine tingle with fear and something akin to unwanted lust). "Well – um – because yours spilled, sir."

"And do you usually drink a non-fat mocha?"

"No, actually; I just felt like -"

"Something different," he finishes for me, smirking knowingly; "like the clothes and hair."

I open my mouth as if to speak but nothing comes to mind, so I just close it and nod.

"Ah hah… well -"

At that moment the phone rings and I breathe a sigh of relief before answering it, "Kurt Hummel's office, Blaine speaking."

"Blaine, it's Lynn," Mr. Hummel's business partner says on the line. "Could you tell Kurt I'd like to see him in my office please?"

"Yes ma'am," I say before we both hang up.

I turn to Mr. Hummel and relay the message.

He sighs. "Okay, but come get me in ten minutes; I just thought of a change I wanted to make to the show next month."

"Right," I mumble as he walks out.

* * *

Ten minutes later, I make my way up to Ms. Hammond – Lynn's – office. I knock and open the door.

"Mr. Hummel, Ms. Hammond? Sorry to interrupt but -"

"Oh no no no, you're not interrupting at all honey!" Mr. Hummel speaks over me.

Head cocked to the side and brows furrowed (_honey?_), I shuffle into the office, confused.

"No need to panic Lynn, I'm not getting deported," he turns, grabs my hand, and pulls me forward so I'm standing right next to him, close to his side, "because Blaine and I are getting married."

My mouth drops open, shocked. "I – what?" I squeak, looking between my two superiors.

Ms. Hammond narrows her eyes, skeptical. "Really?" she deadpans, and then shakes her head. "Well just make it official or I'm gonna have to call Jesse in for the show next month – and you know how much I hate that prick."

"Oh definitely, definitely Lynn, you got it!"

"Okay head down to the immigration office now and get this settled; I don't need to lose my best designer."

At that, Mr. Hummel shoves me ahead of him out of the office. As soon as we're outside and walking down the street, I turn around to confront him.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" I demand.

He scowls. "My visa is up and, for whatever reason, I can't renew it until after the first of the year and I am _not_ going back to France; not now. So _you_," he says, jabbing a finger roughly into my chest, "are going to help me out here."

I cross my arms. "And why would I do that?"

"Because if you do, I will put one of your designs in the summer line."

* * *

At the immigration office, Mr. Hummel – guess I should be calling him Kurt now – manages to get us a meeting well ahead of the long-waiting line of people. (He probably used that "bitch please" glare of his; it's so effective.)

"So I hear you're here to get a marriage visa," our immigration officer starts off as soon as he walks in.

"Yes," Kurt confirms confidently.

"And you're not doing this just so you don't get deported? Because, if you are, there will be dire consequences for the both of you."

I swallow thickly but Kurt just scoffs. "Of course not."

"Then why is it that," the officer, Amy Brolden according to her nameplate, asks, "when asked, none of your co-workers knew of this relationship's existence?"

I speak up. "Well we just thought it wouldn't look right – that Kurt would come off as biased – considering the use of a couple of my designs, and my upcoming promotion."

"Yes," Kurt chimes in, "Blaine's promotion to designing partner."

As Ms. (Agent?) Brolden hums in acknowledgment and writes that down Kurt turns to glare at me, mouthing "what the hell are you doing?" I just smirk (quite bravely, I might add) in answer.

"How about your families; do they know about you?" Brolden suddenly says.

Kurt sort of shrugs. "I don't have any family to speak of really; my mother died when I was young, and my father right before I graduated from secondary school – high school," he clarifies.

"Okay, how about your family Blaine?"

"Well I was going to go home for the holidays starting this weekend but -"

"But he was a little hesitant about leaving me here all by my lonesome – he's a sweetheart like that - so I'm going with and we're telling his family then," Kurt tacks on, giving me the urge to raise a brow at him (_Oh, so I can only visit my family and old friends when it suits you? And now I'm a __**sweetheart? Was calling me "honey" not enough for you?**_) but I resist.

"Is that so?" We both nod eagerly. "Well all righty then! Once you get back after the first of the year we'll have a meeting; we'll set it up then."

We all stand up and are just about to walk out the door when Brolden asks one more question.

"Oh yes, one more thing: where is it Blaine's from Kurt?"

Kurt quickly glances at me before turning around and, surprisingly (Who knew the ice queen would remember something as insubstantial as my hometown? Next thing you know he'll remember my birthday!), giving the right answer: "Westerville, Ohio."

* * *

_**So if you have any suggestions, feel free to review or just PM me! Xx**_

___**P.S. I promise to get on LoveGame and NLLG!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: First off, I want to apologize profusely for not having updated in sooo long! I have absolutely no excuse! Second, I would like to answer a question a reviewer had: No this is not going to be exactly like the movie; if you haven't noticed, I changed Gammie's birthday to Christmas/New Year's for the reason that Blaine is going home and, because of that, there are going to be a lot of other changes, since Kurt and Blaine will be "stuck" in Westerville for about two weeks instead of just a weekend. Plus, again if you haven't noticed, the rating is M so you know what that means. ;) Haha anyway, I hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

"That promotion idea of yours? Excellent; she fell right for it," Kurt says as soon as we're on the street.

I stop and turn around. "I was serious Kurt; I'm getting a promotion," I say, which wipes the smirk right off his face.

"You're kidding," he deadpans. When I only stare determinedly back at him Kurt scowls, hands on his hips. "Why should I promote you to design partner? I'm already using your designs."

"That's _precisely_ the reason! You've been using my designs more and more, making only the slightest adjustments here and there, so why shouldn't I be able to take credit where credit is due and actually become a partner? You know I deserve this Kurt!"

"Without becoming just a regular designer for the company first?"

I snort. "Right. I see the way you treat Jesse – not that I blame you; he's an asshole – but he rarely gets a say in anything and during the two years I've been here never once have I seen any of his designs used."

"Because they're gaudy pieces of shit -"

"Exactly! I've been working my _ass_ off, and you and Lynn seem more than happy with what I've done, but… but if you don't promote me this deal is off and you can get shipped back to France for all I fucking care."

Kurt stands there shocked at my outburst, mouth agape before he regains his composure and replacing it with his usual "bitch please" expression. "You can't be serious."

"Does it look like I'm fucking joking?" I demand, voice dangerously quiet now.

He considers it for a moment before relenting. "Alright deal," he says grudgingly.

"Oh no," I say with an evil smirk, "we don't have a deal until you propose to me properly."

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon, down on one knee; we don't have all day."

Kurt grumbles about the dirty ground and his designer jeans as he takes a knee in front of me.

"Blaine Anderson," he says in a sickly sweet voice, "will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

"Hmm…" I contemplate, forefinger and thumb stroking my stubbly jaw, letting him squirm a bit. "Sure, why not."

Kurt mutters vague threats as he pulls himself up, ignoring the gentlemanly hand I couldn't help but offer him.

I lean forward so my mouth is right next to his ear. "You might want to keep the threats to a minimum in front of my family if you want to keep up this façade."

He turns his head slightly so his mouth is right next to my own ear, his breath stirring something deep and unwanted inside me. "And you may want to keep the bossing to a minimum or you will be _very_ sorry."

"Oh really? Why would that be?" I challenge.

Kurt's voice gets noticeably, and very sexily, deeper. "If you keep this up you'll find out soon enough." Is it just me or did he just sound like he was purring in my ear?

I take a quick, stumbling step back, shaking my head to clear it. When I open my eyes – _when did I close them?_ – Kurt has a triumphant, smug smirk on his face.

"I – I'll see you tomorrow." _Damn him!_ "We can go over the details for the trip then." And before he has the chance to say another word I hurry off home needing to deal with this more than unwanted problem I seem to be developing.

_If I didn't know any better I would say I'm starting to become attracted to Kurt Hummel._

* * *

"Alright so our flight is tomorrow evening at 7:30 from JFK," I say the next morning in Kurt's office.

"Yeah sounds good," Kurt says.

I look down at the packet in my hand, glancing at the various questions I answered last night. "I printed off a list of questions Brolden will ask us when we get back and took the liberty to answer them for you, so just take a look -"

"Wait," he says, finally turning around and looking at me, "if she's gonna ask us both these questions, then why'd you print off only one set and write on it? Shouldn't I answer them for you too?"

"Oh that's not necessary; I already know all the answers."

"And how's that?"

This time I'm the one that snorts derisively (though much less cogently, but that's beside the point). "Please. I've worked for you two years, not to mention my internship, and we have spent many a long nights and weekends together. Plus the fact I need to know all your crazy shit so you don't snap my head off for some inane reason."

Kurt takes his trademark stance and raises a brow skeptically. "Prove it then."

I take a deep breath to steady and prepare myself. "Your mother, Elizabeth, died of cancer when you were eight, followed by your father, Burt, when you were seventeen of a heart attack. After secondary school you moved to the States on a scholarship to NYU in fashion design, leaving behind your one and only friend, Mercedes Jones, who you haven't spoken to since."

He laughs dismissively. "That's not at all impressive; you can find most of that out with little difficulty."

"Yes but what you can't find out from public record is that, during the whole month of May, you go on a baking kick to honor your mother but don't eat any of it yourself; you take the goods around to different shelters and kids' homes – which is shocking considering you're the Ice Queen. Then, on October 5th, you take the day off – no matter if you're working on a big project – and binge on junk food and work on cars at the local family-owned shop."

His arms drop to his sides and I smirk, knowing I have him, and step closer. "Don't feel too bad about having those couple little secrets – that even Lynn didn't know – discovered _sweetie_; I am _very_ attuned to what's happening around me – a skill I developed at a young age, though no one would expect it of little old Blainers."

Kurt blinks his rapidly a few times and shakes his head slightly before asking a question I hadn't been expecting yet: "How and why is it that you can do that? Why did you have to develop the skills to notice such things – emotions and such that people are usually quite good at hiding?"

I shrug. "Just a random skill, no biggie."

He snorts. "Oh come on Blaine, don't think that I haven't noticed that you're so good at helping and consoling others; that you're nice to me when I'm in a foul mood, even though I treat everyone like shit. I'm not _blind_ Blaine! So come on – why do you have these skills? Why do you feel it necessary to help others? Are you trying to feel better about yourself or -"

"Can you just drop it Kurt?" I shout without even realizing it. "Here are the questions with my answers." I throw the packet on his desk. "I'll see you tomorrow night; I'm taking the day off." With that I grab my coat and satchel and storm out the office, ignoring all the shocked looks everyone is giving me as I pass.

I make it all the way to my apartment, slamming my door shut before the attack hits. I slide down to the floor, back against the door, hands clutching my hair through the gel, tears streaming down my face as I start hyperventilating.

_Oh god,_ I think, _this is not a good sign. I really don't need this happening again; not when I'm heading home!_

I'm just starting to calm down, the shallow gulping breaths turned to sniffles, tears falling more slowly, when I feel the banging on the other side of my door.

"Blaine Anderson!" a voice shouts. "You will open this goddamn door!"

"Fuck," I groan, scrambling up and swiping at the drying tears before opening the door.

Instead of a hello or some other proper greeting, Kurt immediately demands, "What the _hell_ was that Anderson?"

I scowl, not in the mood for this right now. "It was nothing; don't worry about it." I try shutting the door but Kurt shoves through into my apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Oh no, I don't think so. If you know so much about me – things that _definitely_ aren't on this packet," he holds said packet up, "it's only fair I get to know more about you."

"There's no need to go off the packet Kurt, so just forget about it; it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you. Just get the fuck out Kurt; I can't deal with you right now."

He starts to open his mouth to argue more but he stops, seemingly noticing the tears still working steadily down my face and my disheveled hair, and sighs resignedly. "Fine… but you're gonna have to tell me sometime because this is clearly something major, so you _know_ Brolden's going to ask about it."

"I really couldn't fucking care less right now Kurt…" I mumble, turning my back to him, my hands buried in my hair again, trying to stave off more panic. "Just – just leave. Please," I add somewhat desperately.

He hesitates before sighing again – this sigh sounding sad this time – before turning and opening the door. I think he's left but then I hear him take a breath and say, "You know, I may not be from smalltown Ohio, but I do know how it feels to grow up gay without a parent or friends there who understand and help and support you… Just know that -" He stops himself, seeming to change his mind. "Never mind… see you tomorrow Blaine…"

With that he's gone.

"Fuck…" I say aloud to my empty apartment. "He really needs to stop showing redeeming qualities like that…" _It makes it all the harder to ignore these strange, growing emotions. _


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: *gasp* An update two days in a row? Just go with it.**_

* * *

After Kurt leaves I take a scalding hot shower to calm myself down some more and to try to take my mind off him. Only problem is I have a wandering mind, and a very active imagination.

"Oh god…" I groan as my mind conjures a picture of Kurt, a man who very much enjoys being in charge, pleading me to fuck him, hard. My cock twitches at the image, hardening and throbbing. "No, no, no!"

Maybe cold water will help, I think so I turn the hot knob all the way to the right and the cold to the left, hoping it'll shock my senses and stop this nonsense. Sadly it helps not at all and next thing I know I'm coming hard and fast against the wall with no help whatsoever from my hand.

Gasping from the intense orgasm I keep the shower running and continue as I was before my imagination so rudely interrupted. After a few minutes I step out and towel myself off before throwing on an old pair of sweats and heading to the kitchen to scrounge something up for lunch.

* * *

Later, just as I'm starting to doze off, my phone bleeps with a new text message. Rolling over and turning the screen on I see it's from Kurt. With a confused from I open the message.

It reads: **Hey Blainers! Just wondering how everything's going down tomorrow **

I hit reply and start typing.

**Me: Are you drunk?**

** The answer comes immediately. Kurt: No of course not!**

** Me: Why'd you call me Blainers then?**

** Ice Queen: I can't have a pet name for my lovely fiancé? **

** Me: …what are you doing?**

** Ice Queen: Playing the part silly! What else?**

** Me: Kurt nobody's reading our texts, no need to act like this**

** Ice Queen: Fine, whatever… I got a car to pick us up from our apartments and take us to the airport by 6:30pm. That good?**

**Me: Yeah fine.**

** Oh and when packing try not to include any kilts or the like.**

** Ice Queen: Why?**

** Me: Just… please? No kilts?**

** Ice Queen: *sigh* fine. No kilts.**

** I suppose thigh-high boots are out of the question as well**

** Me: Only if the heels are more than two inches.**

** Ice Queen: …alright.**

** You made hotel reservations right? Separate rooms?**

** Me: Please. Think of who you're talking to here.**

** Ice Queen: Oh of course, my mistake.**

** Me: Yes. Make sure it doesn't happen again.**

** Ice Queen: Oh no, definitely not**

With that the conversation ends.

It's not until I'm about to fall asleep again that a thought hits me: _Was I just flirting with my boss?_

* * *

The next day I make perfect timing, getting my luggage downstairs just as Kurt calls me to say he and the car are there. After making sure the driver has no trouble with my luggage I get in the back with Kurt and turn to face him.

"I meant to ask you yesterday," I say, "how do you know where I live?"

He just smiles brightly and says, "I have my ways."

I stare at him a minute before deducing, "You checked my file, didn't you?"

His face falls. "Way to ruin the fun."

I cock my head and narrow my eyes. "You've been in an awfully chipper mood since last night. Are you on something?"

He snorts delicately. "Please. As if the Kurt Hummel would do something as degrading as take drugs."

_Ahh, there he is._ I hum in acknowledgment.

* * *

Though the fight is a short one, I had hoped to use it to relax before entering the lions' den. Kurt, however, has different plans.

"Okay," he says, taking out the packet of questions I gave him and flipping to the page he wants, "there are a few questions you didn't answer, such as where we stay when we spend the night together – which is obviously my place."

"And why's that?" I can't help but ask.

"Well from what I saw yesterday – and there wasn't much at all – I would say we'd be more comfortable at mine."

"Because it's not a small studio apartment."

"Precisely," he answers with a smirk. "I do live on Upper Fifth after all."

I roll my eyes as Kurt flips to his next question.

"Now this one asks about tattoos; you indicate you have one but not what it is or where," he says.

"Was there a question in there somewhere?"

"What is your tattoo of and where is it?"

"Nope sorry, that's privileged information."

"You know Brolden's going to ask me about it."

"You're just gonna have to come up with a clever answer now aren't you?"

Kurt sighs in exasperation.

He's quiet so long I think he's finished but he speaks up again.

"Yesterday, before I got to your apartment, you had a panic attack… didn't you?" Kurt asks.

When it's clear I'm not going to answer Kurt continues. "I mean, your hair was sticking up all over the place like you'd run your hands through it or something, and you were crying. Not to mention you yelled at me, quite rudely if I may say, before you dashed out."

That gets a reaction out of me. I turn in my seat and look at him. "I… I did?" he nods an affirmation. "I'm sorry," I sigh, "sometimes I just – sometimes I -" I try to explain but my throat sticks and no more words come out.

Brow furrowed, Kurt says quietly, probably not intending for me to hear (though who knows with him), "You're really fucked up, aren't you?"

I chuckle darkly. "You haven't even the slightest fucking idea…"

* * *

Upon arriving at the Columbus airport, and going down to baggage claim, I run into my brother.

"Cooper!" I exclaim.

"Little brother!" he yells back.

After a short embrace I pull back. "What're you doing here? Mother said you were staying in LA to spend the holidays with Ali's family."

"Yeah that over," he says somewhat sheepishly.

"Coop!" I groan. "C'mon, I actually liked this one! And father didn't, so that was an added bonus!"

"I know…" Cooper says as we start walking toward the exit. "But we just didn't click on a -"

"She couldn't handle your ego anymore, could she?" I interrupt.

Coop clutches his chest. "Ouch, Blaine, you hurt me," he says before we both burst out laughing.

"Umm guys?" Kurt calls from way behind us. "A little help!"

Cooper runs to his aid as I groan inwardly, trailing him slowly.

"You must be the infamous Ice Queen Blaine's been whining to me and mother about the past few years," I hear Cooper say as I approach.

Kurt raises his chin confidently. "That'd be me."

"You know, when Blaine called you the Ice Queen, I thought you were a woman, but this really explains all the sexual frustration I was detecting."

"Coop!" I exclaim in astonishment.

"Though I have no clue why he would be frustrated if you've been slipping him the hot beef injection this whole time," he continues, ignoring me.

"Oh god…" I groan, covering my face in embarrassment.

When Kurt speaks I can hear the smirk in his voice. "I think the frustration is that I won't let him give it to me."

"_Really?_" Cooper asks, all ears.

"_Okay!_" I shout over him. "Let's stop talking about this – in public in _Ohio_ – and head to the hotel."

Cooper looks up from one of Kurt's suitcases he was pulling the handle out of. "Oh didn't mother tell you?" he asks. "You guys are staying at the house, in your old room."

I raise a brow skeptically as we start walking again. "The both of us? In one room? Really?" Coop nods. "How'd she convince father to allow that?"

"Oh he doesn't know."

"How'd she manage that?"

His only reply is a shrug.

Kurt speaks up again. "Um, I know this is Ohio, but… why is it such a big deal that we're staying in the same room?"

I turn my head slightly toward him. "Oh, didn't I tell you? My father is a homophobe."


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean your father is a homophobe?" Kurt demands as we get in Cooper's car.

"I mean just that," I say matter-of-factly.

He turns around in the shotgun seat that Cooper offered him (_He always shoves me in the back, just because I'm little._) to talk to me more easily. "So what you're saying is that your own father hates what you are."

I smirk without humor. "More like he hates me in entirety," I say bitterly. "I am a disgrace to the Anderson name - not only because I'm gay, but because I decided to go into fashion design instead of becoming a lawyer or politician or doctor."

"Oh come on Blaine," Cooper speaks up from the driver's seat after starting the car, "you're not a disgrace, and he doesn't hate you. I mean, father wasn't exactly happy with me either when I decided to go into acting."

"Yes but did he cut you off? Did he refuse to pay for your education? Does he deny you money when you're between jobs?" Cooper remains silent. "My point exactly."

"Kurt, just watch yourself, okay?" Cooper says after a moment. "Our father isn't the most pleasant man."

"Please," Kurt responds, "I can take care of myself."

I say sarcastically, "Right," affectively ending conversation.

As we near the house Kurt gasps.

"This is your house?" he says in awe.

"Actually this is just the house we stay at during the holidays," Coop answers; "the main house is in DC."

"Wait…" Kurt says, thinking. "Who's your father?"

"Walter Anderson," Cooper and I respond at the same time, used to people asking us that question.

His jaw drops. "Walter Anderson. _The_ Walter Anderson who singlehandedly turned down marriage equality? And LGBT rights legislation altogether?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

"The very one," I say bitterly. "And we get to spend a whole two weeks in the same house as him."

"Not that he'll leave his study all that much," Cooper adds as he pulls into the ten-car garage.

"True," I concede; "a small comfort."

"No wonder you asked me not to bring anything vaguely feminine…" I hear Kurt say to himself as we pull our luggage out the back. "Not that I exactly listened…" he says even more quietly as he heads toward the door leading into the kitchen.

"Great," I groan, following.

Coop throws an arm around my shoulders. "Cheer up Blainers," he says; "I'm sure it won't be too bad."

"You haven't been around Kurt as much as I have Coop," I respond, disgruntled. "You don't know him like I do."

"I'm sure I don't," he says with a smirk and a wink, hurrying to help Kurt inside.

I shake my head at him. _This is going to be a fun holiday,_ I think with a sigh.

* * *

Inside I find mother giving a startled Kurt a hug.

"It is lovely to finally meet you!" she gushes as she pulls away.

"Umm thanks?" Kurt replies, confused.

I chuckle at the sight of the two of them together: fashionable, uptight Kurt and my mother, who Cooper takes after, and wouldn't have a single outfit that matched if it weren't for me.

"Mother, you're scaring him," I laugh as I walk up to give her a warm embrace.

"I am?"

"To be honest," I mutter in her ear, "I don't think he was expecting Walter Anderson's wife to be so cheery and welcoming."

"Ahh," she says in realization, eyes widening. "Well don't worry darling, you're not the first," mother tells Kurt in her lilting Southern accent.

Kurt smiles awkwardly, wrapping his arms around himself. "Yes well… where will I be staying?"

"Oh I am so sorry! Where is my head?" mother says, remembering herself. "You must want to turn in. You two will be staying in Blaine's old room. He knows the way, just follow him."

"Um mother?" I quickly say before Kurt picks the suitcases back up. "Do you think that's such a good idea? I mean, father -"

"What your father doesn't know won't hurt him," she interrupts. "Anyway, it's not like he'll be leaving that study of his for more than meals. And even if he does find out, he can take it up with me."

"No, mother, I don't want to cause any trouble," I rush. "You know what he'll do if he finds out -"

"Blaine," my mother says in all seriousness. "Don't worry; everything is going to be fine."

"Okay…" I say uncertainly, brow furrowed.

She smiles again. "Now you two head on up to bed, I'm sure you're exhausted."

"Thank Mrs. Anderson," Kurt says from behind me.

Mother oozes sweetly, "Please darling, call me Patricia." She pushes us toward the staircase. "You two have a good night." With that and a wink she heads to her room, leaving me and Kurt alone.

"Did… did your mother just wink at us?" Kurt asks in disbelief.

"That she did," I say with amusement. I turn and tug lightly on his sleeve to get his attention. "Now c'mon; we have three flights of stairs to climb."

"Three? How many floors _are_ there?" Kurt exclaims, amazed.

"Five including the basement, and attic – which is where we're headed."

"We're staying in the _attic?_" he asks in disgust.

I chuckle. "It's much better than it sounds."

* * *

"Holy shit," Kurt mutters. "This is like a penthouse suite. I am so jealous!"

His shock, awe, and jealousy wear off when I unceremoniously drop his luggage in the middle of the floor.

"Hey _watch it!_" he yells at me shrilly. "That is Louis Vuitton!"

"I know," I say. "I work with you, remember?" I walk over to the bed and start pulling down the covers, getting it ready for the night.

"What're you doing?" Kurt demands. "That's where I'm sleeping!"

I turn around to glare at him. "_Really?_ You're not even going to _ask_ to sleep in _my_ bed?"

He responds with a superior sniff, "Well I am the guest, it's only proper."

"I know," I say with an eye roll, "which is why I was getting the bed ready for you."

"Oh. Good," Kurt says curtly.

As I finish I mutter to myself, "A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

After I finish with Kurt's bed I head over to the couch to prepare the pull-out for myself. Just as I'm pulling the bed out Coop walks in.

"Oh hey, need a hand?" he offers.

"No, I'm fine," I grunt. Then the bed lands on my right foot, drawing a howl of "_son of a bitch_" from me.

Cooper rushes over. "How is it you do that every time?"

I moan, stumbling back, "Just a talent I guess." Kurt giggles across the room. "Keep that up and you'll be sleeping on the pull-out," I threaten, which shuts him right up.

My brother looks between us in confusion. "Wait, why aren't you guys sleeping in the same bed? Are you fighting or something?"

"Or something…" I say under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Kurt exclaims. "He's just tired." Then, getting up from taking clothes out of his suitcases to them up Kurt shuffles over to Cooper, cups a hand around his ear as if to tell a secret, and stage whispers, "Anyway, we can't sleep in the same bed because Blainers here doesn't exactly lets me sleep. If you know what I mean."

Coop guffaws and ruffles my hair while I scowl and massage my crushed foot. "That's my baby bro," he says affectionately.

"Get outta here Coop," I command, pushing his hand away and ready to throw something at his head.

"Will do. Sleep tight you two," he says with a wink before leaving.

"Your family is strange," Kurt says. Then, so quietly I'm not sure I hear it, he adds as he heads into the bathroom, "But I like them."

_Oh just wait till you meet father, _I think;_ you're gonna _love_ him._

* * *

_**A/N: Okay, the next chapter should be when Kurt meets Blaine's father. The only problem is I can't think of any good scenarios... So if anyone has any ideas for it at all, just leave it in a review or PM me; it would be very much appreciated. Xx**  
_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Sorry about the slight delay; I needed some help with this chapter from my co-author for**_Him or Her**_. __But, without further ado:_**

* * *

"Wake up Blainers," I hear a voice singsong, "or you're going to miss breakfast."

I groan and roll over, turning my back on Cooper. Alas, this is Cooper and he won't be ignored, so he starts jumping on the pullout.

I sit up and glare at him, vision blurry given I hadn't put my contacts in yet. "_Really_ Coop? How old are you again?"

He just grins and moves forward, arms outstretched.

"Stop," I warn. "I know what you're going to do and just don't. _Please_."

"What's a matter Blainers?" he asks in a baby voice. "You afraid Kurtsie's going to find out how ticklish you are?"

"What? No! Wait – where is Kurt?" I ask, just now noticing he hadn't chided us – well mainly Coop – for being so childish, especially when he hadn't had his morning coffee yet.

"Oh he's downstairs already," Cooper answers, "having coffee with mother."

I scramble out of bed. "You left him alone with mother? What time is it? What if father goes down before I'm there? God, Coop, why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"Uh first of all," Cooper starts while I scramble around gathering my stuff to take a quick shower, "he and mother seem to get along rather well, so I'm sure he's fine. As for father, you know he doesn't go down to breakfast until precisely 8 o'clock, and it's only 7:15. Besides, I really think Kurt will be able to handle him."

"_Seven fifteen?_ Coop, you know how long it takes to tame this!" I exclaim, pointing at my shaggy mop of hair.

Cooper places his hands on my shoulders and stoops a bit to look me in the eyes. "Little brother, calm down. Just go without the get for today." When I start to open my mouth he squeezes my shoulders slightly. "Blaine. Stop worrying about what he thinks about you so much."

"I don't -" He gives me a look. I sigh and drop my head. "I know I shouldn't care, not with the things he's said to me, but I… I just can't help it, you know?"

"I know Blaine," my big brother says quietly. "I know."

* * *

I take the stairs down two at a time, forcing myself not to run a hand through my oddly free curls (a habit I thought I kicked years ago). I glance down at my watch before stepping into the dining room.

_Here we go_, I think, seeing it's 7:59 am.

"And he's finally up!" Kurt is the first to notice my entrance. "I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away!"

I roll my eyes. "Kurt, it's only 7:59."

"It's 8 o'clock on the dot actually," a more than familiar voice says behind me.

I turn around, force a smile, and offer a hand. "Father. Long time, no see."

"Really Blaine? You're almost late to breakfast and you don't even have the excuse of gelling those infernal curls of yours?" father says instead of a proper greeting.

I sigh, dropping my hand. _Of course that's the first thing he says to me._ "Sorry father."

He looks at me a second longer before shifting his gaze behind me and to my left. "And you must be the reason my son hasn't been home in more than two years."

I can hear the smirk in Kurt's voice as he replies, "Well you can't blame him really – I am fabulous."

Father hums in answer, eyes narrowing in judgment at Kurt's use of the word "fabulous."

"Actually father -" I start.

"But actually sir," Kurt continues, interrupting and shooting me a look as he steps up beside me, "I think the real reason he hasn't come home is that he can't stand being in the presence of a judgmental, homophobic prick like you – especially during the holidays."

Father grinds his teeth. "You've just met me, yet you have the audacity to speak so candidly?"

Kurt simply stands there, staring back, no doubt on the verge of using his trademark glare. I consider saying something to break the silence but father suddenly bursts into laughter.

_What the fuck…?_ I think.

"I may not like what you are kid," Father chuckles, "but you sure got balls. Hey, maybe you could lend some to Blaine here."

_Really?_

Kurt smirks. "Oh trust me sir, Blaine needs no help whatsoever when it comes to balls."

"That so?" father asks, looking at me, eyebrows raised slightly. "I don't recall that ever being the case."

"What can I say?" Kurt says, stepping to the right and wrapping his arms around my waist, almost making me jump. "I really bring out Blaine's good side – and bad, for that matter."

"I see…" father says, taking his seat at the head of the table, getting bored with the conversation already, and wanting to get back to his precious, precise schedule.

I turn around in Kurt's arms, as he hasn't let me go yet. "What the hell Kurt?" I whisper furiously.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing," he responds before dropping his hands slightly to squeeze my ass then stepping back to reclaim his place next to mother.

_What the fuck is he playing at?_

* * *

Somehow I make it through the stress of breakfast with my overzealous brother, flamboyant boss, homophobic father, and pacifying mother. During that breakfast I find out my mother planned a dinner with the family and a couple of friends. Luckily she said she invited David, Wes, and Thad; hopefully having my old high school friends would help me through another horrid meal with all these people. If only them being there would guarantee father won't be as homophobic as usual…

"But," mother says as Kurt, Cooper, and I help her carry the plates into the kitchen (even with a huge house, my mother insists on doing the work herself instead of hiring a maid), "before tonight I think I should have a little bonding time with Kurt; get to know him a little better." She turns and smiles at Kurt as she says this, and he hands her his dishes.

I frown. "You two spent alone time together earlier before I woke up," I protest.

"Blaine, you've had Kurt all to yourself for years now; I'm sure you can spare him for a few hours," mother scolds. "Besides, it'll also give you the chance to spend time and catch up with Cooper and your father."

"Yeah bro," Cooper says with a smile and a playful shove of my shoulder, "we could go golf or something."

"Cooper," I say in a tone you would use with a young child, "it's Christmas time in _Ohio_."

He grins sheepishly and rubs at the back of his head with his right hand. "Oh yeah. Well we can go do something else."

"Yeah, as if we're gonna get father out of his study," I grumble, already not looking forward to this day and it's not even 10 o'clock yet.

"Perfect excuse to drink some good scotch," Coop says with a wink.

I raise my brows skeptically. "At nine thirty in the morning?"

"Come on, don't lie; you know you're gonna want it, spending more than a few minutes in the same room as father."

I sigh. "Can't deny that logic."

"Alright you two, scoot," mother speaks up, pushing us toward the doorway. "Quit complaining about spending time with your father and actually go do it; you're big boys."

"Yes mother," we say simultaneously, just like we used to when we were kids, earning us another shove.

"Go, I want to spend time with Kurt."

As I walk out and toward the study with Cooper I glance back and see Kurt giving me a look that feels significant, but I have no clue what he's trying to say.

* * *

"So Kurt," Patricia says after Blaine and Cooper leave, "how is Blaine doing? I mean, New York is such a big city, and I hear your profession isn't the kindest -"

"He's doing great," I say with a strained smile. "I mean, he – yeah he's great." I hate lying to Patricia, she's such a nice woman, but I actually have no idea how Blaine is doing. And, if the other day was any indication – his little freak out at the office – I'd say he's not doing as well as he puts on.

His mother sort of sighs in relief, "Oh, that's good. Do you – do you know if there's anything new going on in his life? Anything good? Because, while we do try to talk every week, he said the last time we talked that you guys were really busy with an upcoming show, so he said he'd just talk to me once the holidays came."

"When was that?" I ask, curious.

"Around Thanksgiving."

"He hasn't called you in almost a month?" I say, shocked. "Oh, rest assured, he is going to hear from me about that."

Patricia chuckles. "Kurt, it's fine," she says, placing a hand on my arm. "I understand you guys get busy when you're preparing for a show."

"Yeah, Blaine is especially busy this time around considering we're using a couple of his designs, and this is his last show as my assistant," I say.

She frowns slightly. "What do you mean this is his last show as your assistant? Is he not doing a good job anymore?"

"Oh no!" I rush, realizing what she's thinking. "He's doing such an excellent job that I decided he should get a promotion."

"What?" Patricia exclaims. "That's great!"

" Yeah, it was just a matter of time," I explain. "I mean, we've been using his designs more and more lately."

"Aww I am so proud of him!" she gushes.

"Yes, just one of many things to be happy for him," I say.

"There's more? What other good news is there?"

"Well," I say, turning to face Patricia, "Blaine probably wants to tell you himself – I mean, you are his mother after all – but he and I have gotten pretty close."

She sort of squints, trying to figure out what I'm hinting at. "Come on," she begs when she doesn't get it, "you can tell me!"

"No, I think I should let Blaine do that," I say.

Patricia hits me lightly on the arm. "You are such a tease."

"Mm that's what Blaine tells me," I mutter with a wink.

"I can't believe you just said that," she giggles.

"I can't believe you're laughing!" I say, starting to laugh as well.

Our giggles then dissolve into full-on laughter; I'm surprised no one comes in to see why we've cracked.

* * *

I sigh for what seems like the millionth time that morning and wave at the smoke drifting toward me from father's cigar. Cooper shoots me a look of apology for him. _At least he remembered I hack up a lung every time I'm around smoke for any length of time, _I think bitterly.

"Uh father," Cooper speaks up for me when he notices my eyes starting to water. "Could you put out your cigar? Blaine's about to cough a lung up."

Father shoots me a disgruntled look. "Still can't handle a little smoke, _Blainers_?" he says, using the nickname Cooper came up with contempt. "What's the matter, that little boyfriend of yours turning you into even more of a pussy?" He puts particularly emphasis on the 'boy' in boyfriend, like he can't believe that Kurt is actually a member of the same sex as him. "I bet neither one of you even know how to do anything worthwhile; you probably spend all your time at those little _fashion shows_ of yours."

Cooper starts fidgeting; every time he's in the room when father starts in with his slurs Cooper has to fight to not speak up because I asked him not to a long time ago.

"God, I can't believe my sons are in acting and _fashion, _of all things," father complains.

"You know what _father_?" I finally speak up. "Both of our jobs actually pay pretty well, if you hadn't noticed. And just because Kurt is an up and coming fashion designer, and just because he doesn't dress in a way you find _proper_, and he doesn't act like a 'man,' doesn't make him any less of a man!"

"Blaine," Cooper says, touching my arm and trying to calm me down.

"No Cooper," I exclaim, "I'm tired of the way he treats me – treats _us_." I turn to father. "You have _no right _to speak about_ anyone _this way! Cooper and I have turned out great. And Kurt? He is more of a man that you will _ever_ be! He's proud of who he is, and I hope one day to be as comfortable with myself as he is."

"Oh, so you want to be even more of a fairy?" father challenges.

I stand up and clutch my hair in frustration. "Oh my god, you are so fucking frustrating!" I glare at him. "You want to know something about my _boy_friend? He's not just my boyfriend!" Father stares back at me with something akin to shock. "That's right; Kurt and I are engaged. And guess what? We live in New York, so we can get married any time we want!"

Father regains his voice. "No son of mine is getting married to another man -"

"You don't have a say," I interrupt, getting angrier by the minute. "I love him and he loves me; that's all that matters here. If you don't like it, you can just fuck off!" With that I shove back my chair and storm out the door and outside into the blizzard that had started at some point, ignoring the various voices calling my name.

I pace in the snow already piled in the front lawn, then just wander aimlessly down the street, not even noticing I'm wearing nothing but skinny jeans, a thin sweater, and my favorite pair of oxfords.

* * *

_**Dun dun duuunnnnn...! (sorry, I couldn't help** **myself)**_


	6. Chapter 6

Patricia and I sit in a den – obviously hers, given the décor – casually chatting when we hear Cooper yell Blaine's name before the front door slams. I think I hear Cooper mutter "dammit" as we walk out to the foyer to figure out what's going on.

"Cooper," Patricia asks, clearly worried, "what's going on? Where'd Blaine go?"

He turns around to face us, anger and sadness in his eyes. "He went outside," he starts to say before I interrupt him.

"Blaine went_ outside_?" I ask. "Into a blizzard? _Why?_"

"I'll tell you why," Walter says, taking his sweet time coming out of his study. "My son is a dumb ass; when he gets highly emotional like this he doesn't _think_."

"He wouldn't have gone outside if you weren't such an insensitive prick," Cooper yells at his father.

"Cooper!" Patricia gasps.

"What the fuck is going on?" I exclaim, gaining their attention before they get sucked into whatever family squabble.

"Well let's see," Cooper starts in a sarcastic tone, counting each thing off on his fingers, "father called Blaine – and you – a pussy, a fairy, and basically said if the two of you get married he'd disown him. So, after telling father to fuck off, Blaine stormed out the door – not properly equipped for a blizzard, I might add."

I stand there, mouth unattractively agape, honestly shocked that someone would treat their child that way; that Blaine would feel the need to go out into a blizzard just to get away from his father.

I frown. "Someone has to go get him."

Walter laughs. "You seriously want to go out in this?" he says, pointing out the window. "You'll just get lost. Blaine knows his way around; he can handle himself in a storm."

"Ah ha," I say tonelessly. "Do what you will; I'm going out there to find him and drag him back here."

* * *

I keep walking straight ahead, into the wind, arms wrapped around my torso. My feet feel like they're being stabbed with sharp, tiny needles everywhere, but I figure that's better than not being able to feel them at all, so I stick to it. I can't even see where I'm going – the whipping snow's forced me to close my eyes – but I just follow my instincts. After a long while I make it to the neighborhood playground that I used to escape to when I just had to get away from father and Cooper wasn't home to rescue me. I can barely tell that's what it is, given everything is half covered in snow and I'm squinting so much, but I just know this is it.

I force my way to my favorite swing and sit down. Even though I can't use it for its main function, I still feel better being in my old sanctuary. So I sit here, clutching the swing so I don't blow away or something, eyes closed and turned into the blowing snow; I always felt more at home in the elements.

All of a sudden I hear a noise off to my left. I turn quickly and scan the area but I don't see anything, so I close my eyes again to prevent more snow from getting in them. When I hear the noise again I decide to find out what it is.

"Who's there?" I yell, my voice carried away by the wind.

"Blaine?" a voice calls, closer than the noise was before.

My head snaps up in amazement. "Kurt? How'd you find me here?"

"I followed the scent of angst, loathing, and pure idiocy," he replies sarcastically from right next to me, making me jump.

"Jesus," I mutter, clutching at my heart before standing up. "I suppose you're here to take me back."

"Unless you'd like to stay out here in below zero weather, during a snow storm, yes."

"Why are you the one that came after me?" I ask as we start walking back the way we came.

"Shocked I would come out into a blizzard to save your sorry ass?" he asks. I nod, choosing not to dignify that with a verbal response. "Truthfully, after Cooper told us why you left, I wanted to get away from your father as well."

"He has that affect on people doesn't he?" I grumble bitterly.

"Mmm," Kurt hums in agreement. "Almost justifies you coming out into a blizzard wearing only this," he says over the wind, motioning at my ensemble.

I laugh slightly, "Not my best idea."

"Along with telling your father about our engagement, it would seem," Kurt says, not sounding at all thrilled. "I thought we were going to wait until tonight, at dinner?"

"Yeah…" I sigh. "He was just pissing me off so fucking much. I guess I'd finally had enough, after all these years."

"Seems about time after what your mother told me," he says, almost conversationally.

"After what – of course mother told you."

"Well I am your fiancé after all," Kurt says with a smirk. "Plus your mother just adores me."

"That's because she doesn't know you," I counter.

"Watch it Anderson," Kurt threatens, "I'm not afraid to bury you in the snow and leave you to fend for yourself."

I laugh. "Like you'd get any more snow on that McQueen jacket you're wearing." For an answer I'm shoved into a huge snowdrift we're passing by. "Of course you know this means war," I call after him as I scramble out, forming a quick snowball before I lop it at his back.

Kurt spins around quickly, glaring when he notices my cheeky grin. "Oh you did not." And before we know it we're having a full-on snowball fight, in the middle of the blizzard, me barely wearing anything. Inevitably, Kurt gains the upper hand, throwing countless snowballs in my face. In a snap decision I run at and tackle Kurt to the ground. When he proceeds to shove more snow in my face while he struggles, I start tickling him, reducing him to giggles.

"Stop, stop, stop! I give, I give!" Kurt gasps out.

I grin down at him. "I win," I manage to say before he turns his head and looks at me, and I'm caught in his eyes, unconsciously not breathing. For a seemingly endless moment he stares back, something unfamiliar coming to light in his eyes. I even have the urge to bend my head down a little bit more and just kiss him.

"Blaine," Kurt says as quietly as he can, what with the wind still blowing like crazy.

"Yes?" I ask, glancing between his eyes and mouth as I gather the courage to kiss him.

He stares back up at me, searching for something in my eyes. "Can you please get off of me?" _That is not at all what I thought you were going to say._ "My ass is getting a little soaked here, and these are definitely not the proper clothes to be worn while playing in the disgusting snow."

I sigh, disappointed that the moment is gone. "Well you're the one that went out in a blizzard wearing McQueen."

"Says the man who's wearing no coat and only a ratty, old pair of oxfords on his feet."

"Hey!" I protest, offering Kurt a hand up. "These are not ratty!"

"Sure they aren't," Kurt says, pacifying me. "Now let's head back before your toes freeze off." And with that he starts walking back to the house again.

We walk in an oddly comfortable silence, huddled up against the wind we're walking into. I glance surreptitiously at Kurt every few minutes, without even understanding why I'm doing it.

_He really is beautiful,_ I think. Then, realizing what I just thought, I shake my head as if that'll prevent me from having any more unwanted thoughts about Kurt.

As we're walking up the driveway Kurt pulls me to a stop, a hand resting lightly on my bicep, the heat of the contact burning through my thin cardigan. Eyebrows raised in question, I wait for him to explain why we stopped before going into the house.

"Cooper told me what your father said about me – about the both of us – and I, uh," he pauses to clear his throat. "I just wanted to say thank you – for defending me."

I smile slightly. "Don't worry about it," I brush aside. I then grab the hand still on my arm, intertwine our fingers – much to the surprise of the both of us – and lead Kurt back into the house.

As soon as I set foot inside I'm slapped resoundingly across my left cheek.

"Oww!" I complain, rubbing my face. "What was that for?"

"For making me worry," mother says, tears in her eyes.

I try to say something, anything to make her feel better but nothing comes to mind, so I just shut my mouth and hug her tightly.

Mother hugs me back before pulling away to give Kurt an even bigger hug. "Thank you for going out there to find him," she mutters gratefully into his ear.

Kurt hugs her back, a little less awkward this time around. "It's my pleasure," he says. "Someone needs to keep an eye on him; he's like a little puppy." He smirks at me over mother's shoulder, knowing I hate it when people compare me to a puppy. I just flip him off and try to think of a way I can get him back for that.

* * *

I hiss slightly as I try to make my way upstairs to my room. The cold must have affected my feet worse than I thought.

"Need any help?" Kurt asks mockingly from the second floor landing.

I scowl, gaze focused on the steps as I go up one by one. "No, I got this."

Apparently I wasn't moving fast enough for him though because next moment Kurt's standing next to me, left arm wrapped around my waist while he wraps my right arm around his shoulders, and he practically carries my up to our attic room.

I sigh in frustration. _I hate it when people insist on helping me,_ I think. "You know, this really isn't necessary," I say to him.

"If you want to be in warm, dry clothes before dinner, yes it is," Kurt counters.

I laugh. "You really think people are going to be able to make it in this weather?" I ask.

He stops and thinks for a moment. "That hadn't occurred to me," he says thoughtfully as we continue on up the stairs.

Finally we make it to our room (_Since when did I start referring to it as _our_ room?_) and Kurt deposits me onto the bed and orders me to dispose of my snow-soaked clothing.

"All of it?" I ask.

"Yes," he says, like it's obvious.

I raise my brows. "You do realize that means I'm going to be completely naked, right?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "No, really?" he says sarcastically.

"All right," I say. "I didn't think you were ready to see my very fine body without clothing quite yet, but it's your funeral."

He scoffs. "Please. I'm from France remember? I've seen plenty of naked men, and women, in my day."

"Suit yourself," I shrug and start stripping. _Oh god, Kurt's gonna see me naked… Wait, why does it matter? I don't care what he thinks! …Do I?_

"While you're doing that, I'm going to grab you some clean, relatively warm clothes."

We're both quiet until something occurs to me. "Why are you being so nice to me? Well, nice for you?" I ask.

His back is turned but I can tell he's rolling his eyes at me again. "Because you almost killed yourself in a blizzard," he states matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, but why were you the one that came to get me?" I say. "You should've been the last one." Then I think about it. "Correction: My father would be the last one."

He's silent for so long I think he's ignoring me, but his answer comes right when I'm about to repeat my question, though jilted it is.

"I didn't really think your mother or brother were really in the best, uh, condition to go out into a storm to look for you," he says, back still turned as he rummages through my clothes, though I know he found an outfit a while ago.

"Okay…" I accept the answer, suspicious though it seems. _There's something he's not saying, I just know it, _I think.

When he finally turns around, I can tell Kurt is fighting to keep his expression neutral as his gaze wonders down to my exposed dick.

"See anything you like?" I say with a wink, suddenly in a playful mood.

He forces his eyes back up to mine and swallows audibly. "Eh," he says, "I've seen better." _Are his pupils dilating?_ "I'm gonna – um, I'm feeling sort of gross after being in the dirty snow thanks to you, so I'm gonna jump in the shower and do an emergency moisturizing routine." He quickly grabs a few articles of clothing after tossing me mine, then hurries into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

_Was he actually _worried_ about me out there?_ I think, shocked. _And did I actually just turn him on? _Disturbingly, that thought seems to turn me on, my dick twitching slightly.

I shake my head to try and rid myself of those thoughts as I pull my clothes on haphazardly and say aloud, "Fuck, I need a drink…"

* * *

_**I'm not so sure about this chapter so**_please**_ let me know what you think! And if you have any suggestions or questions, feel free to speak up; I promise I won't bite!_ Xx**


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: A couple major players are being introduced this chapter! Whoever will it be? ;P Enjoy! :) xx**_

* * *

I lie on the pull out bed, stewing in the thoughts I've been having about Kurt the past few days. _What the fuck is going on with me? _I think._ I don't understand; why am I suddenly having all these thoughts? Next thing you know I'm gonna start fantasizing about him!_

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't realize my cock is starting to harden, or hear the adjoining bathroom door open.

After a particularly disturbing shower, during which I struggle to shove aside thoughts of Blaine joining me, I – regretfully – rush through my moisturizing routine before heading back into the bedroom. While I'm buttoning my shirt I hear a moan from across the room, so I glance up and a sight I never knew I craved meets my eyes: Blaine, lying on the pull out, hand wrapped around his hard cock and pumping lightly.

I stand, transfixed, before I come to my senses and clear my throat, trying to ignore the fact that I'm half hard now, to gain Blaine's attention. His motions stop immediately and his eyes snap open and catch sight of me.

"Fuck," he croaks, voice far deeper than usual and sending a shiver down my spine. He scrambles off the bed and rushes past me to the bathroom and slams the door without another word.

"Well fuck if that wasn't hot," I think aloud.

* * *

For the rest of the night I struggle to ignore and avoid Kurt without raising any suspicions from mother or Cooper. (There's no need to worry about father, as he shuts himself in his study even through dinner.) Kurt, of course, has to make it torture for me; he keeps telling mother and Cooper anecdotes from work, butchering them so badly I'm practically forced to correct him, lest they get any wrong ideas about just how integral a part I play at the office.

"Then I walk into the office and there's this curly-haired monster, wearing clothes that don't fit him, answering to the name of Blaine," Kurt laughs.

I get defensive. "Hey, it's not my fault my alarm clock quit working so that I had no time to gel my hair, or that a mailroom guy ran into me so I had to switch clothes with Wes. And wait a minute," I stop and turn to Kurt to point an accusatory finger at him, "you said you like my hair without gel."

Kurt raises his hands in defeat. "That I did," he confesses. "Which is why I'm glad you've forgone the gel the past couple of days."

"I didn't have much choice," I grumble. "You and Coop seem to have hidden it all."

Cooper clears his throat. "Actually, we threw it all away while you were still sleeping this morning."

"What?" I exclaim. "That shit is expensive!"

Kurt rolls his eyes at me. "I don't understand why you felt the need to use it in the first place." Then he seems to recall this morning, when father ridiculed me for my unruly curls.

"I think you should just learn to use it in moderation darling," mother speaks up. "Use just enough so your hair isn't all over the place, but not too much so that you can still make out your curls."

"I'll keep that in mind," I mumble, getting tired of talking about myself.

The evening continues in much the same manner, until mother then Cooper announce they're off to bed, leaving Kurt and me alone in the study. We sit in silence, I still trying to ignore him. Eventually he can't seem to take the quiet much longer.

"About earlier," he speaks up, but I interrupt him.

"That was my fault; I should have used my head and remembered you were in the next room, but my senses got the best of me. I apologize for fact that you had to witness that."

"Well, uh, I hope your feet are okay," Kurt says awkwardly, forgoing a good transition.

"Oh, they're fine, just a little sore. Nothing I can't handle," I say quietly.

"Good, good," he replies. Then, after another moment of silence, Kurt gets up and starts walking toward the stairs without a single word of farewell.

_Well that was awkward, to say the least, _I think. Once he's gone I sigh and haul myself out of my chair and head over to the small bar in the corner. "I think I'll have that drink now," I say to myself.

* * *

By the next morning the weather has all cleared up and the party is rescheduled for that night. Patricia tries to force me to relax and just hang out with Cooper and Blaine, since I am her guest, but I don't think I could stand one more minute in the same room as Blaine. I don't know what it is but ever since yesterday afternoon, when we got back from the blizzard and Blaine undressed in front of me, I just can't get him out of my head, no matter what I do. Even the stories Patricia tells me while we prepare the food for this evening doesn't help. In fact, I think they just make it worse.

I shake my head for the millionth time after picturing Blaine and me, about ten years from now, playing with a little boy and girl in Central Park.

_Ugh, why does that picture seem so perfect and welcoming?_ I think with as much disgust as I can muster. _I don't even _like_ Blaine, let alone love him!_

Finally Patricia succeeds in shooing me from the kitchen, telling me I need to go relax and leave the rest to her. So I head up to the attic and flop gracelessly headfirst onto the bed, smothering my scream of frustration at these sudden, and most definitely unwanted, thoughts and feelings into my pillow. Once I feel cleansed and calm – well moreso than when I came up here – I flip back over and think on what I should wear tonight.

* * *

"Blaine Anderson," a voice I hadn't heard in a long time says from behind Kurt and me. "Now isn't this a sight for sore eyes?"

I turn around with a huge grin to give her a hug. "Rachel Berry, I thought you told me your dads were visiting you in the city for the holidays this year?"

Rachel shrugs. "Daddy couldn't get out of the office long enough, so I offered to come back out here again," she explains. "Plus it gives me the chance to see you and Cooper again." She gives Kurt her winning smile, and offers a hand. "I don't believe we've met! I'm Rachel Berry."

Kurt takes the proffered handshake. "The Rachel Berry who is taking over the role of Elphaba after the first of the year?" he asks with, if I didn't know better, excitement.

Rachel's grin grows wider and more genuine. "The one and the same! There's only one Rachel Berry," she says conspiratorially.

Kurt laughs. "I must say, from what I've heard of your voice, I honestly cannot wait to see and hear you in action."

"Well of course you can't; Rachel's an act you should never miss out on seeing," another childhood friend says to my left.

"Quinn!" I exclaim as I spin and give her a big hug. "I haven't seen you in ages! How have you been?"

"It's great to see you Blaine," she laughs as she pulls back. "I'm doing pretty well. How about you?"

"Cooper said you finally found a man!" Rachel speaks up, never being one to be left out of the conversation.

I smirk somewhat self-consciously and rub at the back of my neck. "I, uh, I did," I say, subtly motioning Kurt to stand next to me so I can wrap my arm around his waist. To, you know, keep up appearances. "In fact, this is he."

Kurt stiffens slightly when my arm first winds around him, but then he relaxes and speaks up. "Hi, my name's Kurt Hummel," he says with an easy smile.

"Wait…" Quinn says. "Aren't you Blaine's boss?"

Kurt laughs, by now used to this question. "I am, but not for long; Blaine's getting promoted to design partner after the first of the year."

Rachel squeals in excitement and Quinn crushes me in another hug. "That's great!" they gush at the same time, after which they glance shyly at each other before backing away again.

_Have they finally pulled their heads out of their asses and gotten together?_ I think hopefully. _Only one way to find out. _With that I motion between the two of them and ask, "Hey, what's with that little look there? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Of course not Blaine!" Quinn says immediately. "What makes you say that?"

I snort sarcastically. "Oh, I don't know, just the fact that, all through high school and college, you two have been whining to me about how much you are in love with the other but you were too scared to do anything and get rejected."

Rachel clutches Quinn's hand desperately. "Oh please Quinnie, can we just tell him? Blaine's one of our best friends!" Quinn sighs before acquiescing. Rachel claps excited. "Why yes Blaine, you are correct; Quinn and I have finally gotten together. In fact…" she starts, glancing significantly at Quinn.

Quinn sighs lightly again, but her huge smile gives her away. "I proposed last night, and she said yes," she says, all dreamy-eyed.

"Congratulations!" I can't help but shout happily, drawing quite a few curious looks throughout the room.

"What a coincidence," Kurt speaks up, "Blaine and I are engaged as well!"

"Really?!" Rachel squeals. "Oh my god, this is too perfect! We should start planning immediately." With that she drags Kurt away, trying to convince him he should design her and Quinn's wedding dresses.

When I turn back around to face Quinn again she has a knowing grin plastered on her face.

"What?"

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Well yeah, we wouldn't be getting married if I didn't -"

"Oh none of that," Quinn interrupts. "Don't forget Blaine Anderson, I know you. When you asked Jeremiah to marry you a few years ago, you didn't look at him with near as much love as you do with Kurt."

I scuff my oxfords on the carpet, not wanting to think about Jeremiah. "Yeah well Jeremiah was a big mistake; I see that now…" I mutter.

"I may have just met him, but I can tell he's good for you Blaine," Quinn says.

"Oh you don't know him like I do Quinn," I say. "He is so infuriating! He's bitchy and snide and rude, and I never do anything right. I've told you what kind of a boss he is."

She smirks. "Yes you have and, honestly, he sounds just like Rachel."

"I seriously think he's just the male version of Rachel," I say. "Which is a tad worrying…"

She laughs. "I couldn't agree more with that, but there's no denying it Blainers – you two are perfect together. I mean, the way you look at each other when the other isn't looking."

I furrow my brow, confused. "Wait, what do you mean? How does Kurt look at me?"

"The way Rachel looks at me," Quinn says dreamily. "Like you're the only thing in this world, like you're the most perfectly imperfect being he's ever seen."

I shake my head in denial immediately. "No, you're wrong. He can't stand me."

Quinn frowns. "Wait, if you think he can't stand you then why -"

Luckily, Cooper saves me before Quinn finishes her question, dragging me off somewhere across the room.

"Why does Rachel know about your engagement?" he asks. "I thought you were waiting for the perfect moment to announce it to everyone."

"I was, but Kurt just burst out and told her and Quinn after they said they were engaged as well -"

"Wait, Rachel and Quinn are engaged?" he demands. "Oh sweet lord this is perfect!"

"What d'you mean perfect?" I start to ask.

Cooper shoves me toward the center of the room. "You should announce your engagement now, before Rachel tells everyone in her excitement."

"What? I can't do this now!"

"Here," he says, shoving his whiskey into my hand, "liquid courage. Now go!"

I fidget slightly. Cooper motions encouragingly. I clear my throat to gain everyone's attention. "Excuse me everyone," I say in a voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear over the din of conversation. "I have an announcement to make. Last week I became engaged to Kurt, who you've all met this evening." I motion to Kurt, who has a look on his face like a deer caught in headlights. When he reaches me I twine our fingers together to keep him next me. He shoots me a look that clearly says _what the fuck are you doing? _

I knew when I told everybody I wouldn't get the happiest response – this is Ohio after all – but surprisingly they all seem more than happy for me. I mean they're all applauding and shouting congratulations.

_Maybe mother invited only those that have no problem with the fact I'm gay… _I contemplate.

Then one of the former Warblers present speaks up.

"So how'd you do it Blainers?" Thad shouts, gaining noises of curiosity from everyone else.

_Shit, I didn't think about that,_ I panic.

So, with an evil smirk, I turn to Kurt and say, "Kurt should tell this story; he really enjoys it." His answering glare tells me I will pay for this later, but I just chuckle lightly and nod for him to gone on ahead.

"It's really quite sweet," he starts. "I mean, you all know Blaine – you know how much of a romantic sap he really is." There are noises of agreement throughout the crowd, much to my chagrin. "Well Friday night I come home, my door unlocked, and a piano sounding from my bedroom. Now, mind you, I don't have a piano in my apartment so that, along with the door, immediately sets me on edge. So I cautiously head down the hallway -"

"Armed only with a McQueen umbrella," I interrupt, eliciting laughter.

Kurt shoots another glare at me for interrupting his tale. "So I head down the hall with my umbrella and, when I open my bedroom door, I find Blaine kneeling on my bed – which is covered in rose petals – singing along with a pre-recording instrumental of 'I Can't Help Falling in Love with You' playing from his keyboard in the corner." Aww's sound all around the room at this.`

_Funny,_ I think. _I never pegged him for an Elvis Presley fan._

I take up the story from there. "And by the time I'm finished singing Kurt here is practically bawling his eyes out so he can't utter a single word - _thank god_." The last part I mutter so only Kurt can hear me. "So then I motion him over, hold him close, and ask him to marry me." _Wait hold on,_ I think as I'm saying that. _I thought I interrupted so I could say something to embarrass him, not tell them how I'd like my proposal to go! Shit…_

Kurt turns and gives me a funny look, like he can't believe I just described our fake proposal in such a romantically sweet way either.

Then, a voice that sounds suspiciously like David shouts, "Kiss him!" causing all of my and Cooper's old high school friends to start up a chant while the older folk clink their glasses.

I raise my brows, asking a silent question as to what we should do. He shrugs slightly, which I take to mean we should just go with it, so I lean forward and we peck each other on the lips, making a dramatic mwah sound as we pull back.

"Boo!" Rachel yells. "A real kiss, you pansy!"

I shake my head at Rachel's word choice. Then, when all I do is stand and stare at Kurt in question, he takes the initiative and grabs my face, pulling me into a rough, dry kiss that lasts longer than I'd like, yet ends far too quickly. When we step away from each other I swear Kurt's eyes are glazed, pupils once again dilated, before he blinks rapidly, causing them to clear.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. _What the hell was that?_ I demand of myself. _Did I just… enjoy kissing Kurt?_ _Did he enjoy kissing me?_

I shake myself, drain the whiskey Cooper handed me, then march over to him and steal and drain the new glass in his hand, ignoring his protests. I spend the rest of the party downing glass after glass of Jack Daniel's, wanting to smother these accursed feelings for Kurt, but at the same time just wanting to understand them.

* * *

"Oh my god, you two are so _cute _together!" Rachel gushes at me, clutching my hands. "And that kiss! Very nice," she adds with a wink.

I sigh. "Rachel…" I stop, unsure as to whether I should say anything. I mean I just met the girl; should I really tell her the truth? On the other hand I already feel so comfortable with her, more so than with anyone else. It's like we were meant to become best friends, which is just a silly notion. _Aww fuck it,_ I think. _I need to confide in_ someone.

She cocks her head at me during my inner monologue, waiting for me to finish what I was about to say. "Yes?"

I fidget, glancing around the room to make sure everyone is occupied before I take hold of Rachel's elbow and lead her to another room on the other side of the house. When we stop I let go of her arm and she stares at me, shaking with anticipation.

I take a deep breath and let it out before starting. "Okay you have to promise me you won't tell _anyone _what I'm about to tell you," I say in all seriousness. "Not even Quinn." She nods emphatically. "Okay… Blaine and I aren't really engaged; we're just saying that so I don't get deported."

"What?" Rachel practically screams. I rush to cover her mouth to muffle the sound, and don't take it away until she seems calm enough not to shout again. "What do you mean you're not engaged?" she stage whispers.

"I mean just what I said," I reply. "My visa is up, and I don't want to get sent back to France, so Blaine and I struck a deal where he gets promoted if everything works out well."

Rachel frowns. "But… how can you guys not be together? You're perfect together!"

I snort derisively. "We can't even stand each other; all we ever do is bicker."

"Well I believe the bickering part," she concedes, sort of affectionately, "but I don't believe for a minute that you guys don't have feelings for each other."

I raise my brows, curious yet skeptical. "What makes you say that?"

"The way you guys look at each other!" she says. "It's the exact same way Quinnie looks at me – like the other means the world, and there's nothing that could keep you apart."

I chuckle condescendingly, but a part of me can't help but consider what Rachel just said. _Now that I think about it Blaine has been looking at me weird the past couple days…_ I think. _And there was yesterday afternoon… And just now – why did I kiss him like that?_

"No," I say aloud, shaking my head. "You're wrong; there's nothing between Blaine and me besides contempt."

Rachel glares at me. "You are in serious denial," she says. "Worse than I thought…" Then her face transforms, and I get the feeling she just came to an epiphany.

I cross my arms over my chest. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" I demand as she continues to stare.

She grins mischievously. "Nothing, nothing at all," she says as she leaves the room, an odd pep in her step.

"Oh god," I groan. "Why do I feel like I'm going to regret telling her?"

* * *

_**Is Quinn figuring out the truth? And what is Rachel up to?  
How would you guys feel if I used a song here and there when appropriate? I wouldn't be using the whole thing, just the parts that are relevant to the storyline/chapter. I'm not sure when I'll be doing this, probably a couple chapters from now, I just wanted to see what you guys thought. :)  
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter. :) Until next time! xx**_


	8. Chapter 8

After a few minutes to myself to think I follow Rachel back to the party. I decide I should have a talk with Blaine, tell him I told Rachel the truth – which he probably won't be too happy about. But when I walk back into the study I can't find him, so I walk over to Cooper to see if he knows where his brother is.

"Last I saw he was talking to Quinn over there," he answers, motioning to the other side of the room. When we both look that way we see an unwelcome sight: Blaine arguing heatedly with Walter. Cooper groans "What the fuck is he doing?" before rushing over to drag Blaine away. I make my way over at about the same time as Quinn and Rachel.

"You've never been happy with anything I do!" Blaine is exclaiming, pointing an accusing finger in his father's face. "Why can't you just realize I'm not you?"

Walter rolls his eyes. "I know very well that you aren't me Blaine," he says. "If you were you wouldn't consort with the likes of him," he motions to me, "let alone do unspeakable things with him."

Blaine snorts. "Yes because gay sex is so -"

Before he can continue Cooper interrupts, yelling loudly, "Okay! Seems somebody's had a few too many celebratory drinks tonight!" Nervous laughter rings around the room as the four of us attempt to drag Blaine from the room.

"Blaine sweetie, I think it's about time for you to go to bed," Quinn says as he struggles.

"Nooo," he whines, trying to weakly to pull out of my and Cooper's grip on his arms. "I didn't say all I needed to."

"You finish your talking with father tomorrow," Cooper says placatingly. Blaine seems to accept that and stops struggling so much.

Cooper and I practically carry him up the stairs as Quinn and Rachel follow us up. When we reach the attic bedroom Blaine wrenches out of our grip and collapses on the bed I've been using. He breathes in deeply and sighs contently.

"Mmm," he hums into the blankets. "Kurt, you smell so gooooood."

Rachel giggles behind me and I turn to shoot her a glare before walking over to the bed.

"Come on Blaine, you need to get out of your clothes before you wrinkle them," I say, attempting to flip him over.

"M'kay," he mumbles, rolling over onto his back. "Have at it."

I splutter, not believing what I just heard. "What?" I squeak.

Blaine's eyes are closed and he motions lazily to his clothes. "You do it, I'm too sleepy."

I swallow thickly. "O-okay." My hands shaking, I undo his bowtie and slip it off, but before I can start on the shirt his suspenders have to come off, so I ask Cooper to sit Blaine up so I slip them off. The entire time I swear I hear Quinn and Rachel giggling uncontrollably behind me so I turn around and tell them to help me with his shoes and pants. Once we have him stripped down to just his boxer briefs Cooper and I roll him to the head of the bed so we can pull down the covers. As I'm pulling the comforter over his chest I see something out of the corner of my eye so I glance up and notice for the first time a tattoo.

"So that's where his tattoo is," I mutter to myself.

"What was that?" Quinn asks from behind me.

"Oh, um, I was just noticing his tattoo," I say. "What, uh, why'd he get it?"

Quinn cocks her head at me, probably wondering why I don't know this. "Blaine hasn't told you?" she asks. When I just shake my head she sort of furrows her brows, thinking. Then her face lights up like she's figured out something and she starts to open her mouth, but Rachel grabs her hand and shakes her head at her.

Cooper looks at the three of us, confused. Rachel seems to give him a significant glance because he nods slightly and turns back to me. "Well we should probably get back downstairs and help mother and father shoo the guests away," he says, and with that he, Quinn, and Rachel are gone.

I start to get up from the bed where I was kneeling on the bed, but a hand shoots out and grabs my arm, stopping me. I look down and see Blaine has rolled over to face me and his eyes are open, staring up at me.

"Please don't leave," he whispers with a slight slur. "Just cuddle with me, just for a little bit. Please."

I consider ignoring him and getting up anyway, but his eyes are pleading me, a desperation and vulnerability there I hadn't seen before. So I concede, whispering back "okay" before lying down next to him. He immediately scoots forward so he's as close to me as possible with the blankets between us, and pulls one of his arms out so he can wrap it around me and keep me in place. He rests his forehead against my chest, rubbing his nose against my shirt and sighing in content again.

After a few minutes Blaine's breathing slows and evens out.

I shift slightly to see if I can roll out of his grasp and get ready for bed myself, but his arm just squeezes me more tightly against him. I sigh in resignation and continue lying there. I look down and examine the top of his head. For some reason I get the urge to run my fingers through his curls. At first I struggle to resist the urge, but eventually I give in. As I card my fingers through I note how soft and springy his hair is. My actions draw another happy sigh from Blaine and he squirms ever closer, drawing a smile and chuckle out of me.

_Damn he's adorable, _I can't help but think.

I spend a few more moments in Blaine's grasp, my hand making its way down to start stroking his jaw, before I realize myself and scramble out of the bed. Blaine whines at the loss of warmth and contact, his arms reaching and searching weakly. I grab the pillow I had been using from the head of the bed and place it in his hands. His body instantly wraps around the pillow, and he sighs contently yet again.

I run a shaky hand through my own hair, breathing slightly erratic. _What the hell was that?_ I think. _He… he likes how I smell? Is Blaine falling in love with me?_

_More importantly, am __**I**__ falling in love with __**him**__?_

* * *

When I wake up there's an enormous pounding in my head and I'm extremely nauseous. I groan as I attempt to sit up, my hands clutching my head and my eyes squinting against the bright light shining through the high attic window.

"Ugh what did I have to drink last night?" I croak.

I wasn't expecting an answer, let alone from him or so close, so I jump then groan again from the quick motion when Kurt says, "Probably a whole bottle of Jack Daniel's."

I turn toward the sound of his voice and find him standing right next to the bed, holding out a glass of water and a couple aspirin. "Here, drink this and take these."

I reach out and take them, swallowing the pills down harshly and gulping the rest of the water. When I finish I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and hand the glass back. Kurt sets it down on the bedside table – at which point is when I notice I'm not in the pull out for whatever reason - and crosses his arms.

I scrub at my eyes as I ask, "Did I do anything… inappropriate when I was drunk last night?" He stands there considering me for a moment, probably trying to decide if he should tell me whatever it is I did, which is just worrying. When he still doesn't say anything I groan. "Just spit it out already."

Kurt sighs in exasperation. "Fine," he says. "You got in a fight with your dad about how he never approves of anything you do. Then, when you were most likely about to tell him how great gay sex is, Cooper interrupted you and we dragged you up here." I groan at the thought of yet another fight with my father, and at the fact I was about to talk about gay sex in front of so many people. "Oh and you pretty much ordered me to strip you out of your clothes."

"I what?!" I squeak, and then gasp at the loud sound that erupted from my own throat, making my head pound. Kurt snickers at me. "Shut up," I groan, my voice muffled as I have my head resting on my drawn up knees and my hands clutching my hair.

"I have to admit," Kurt says, "you are quite the interesting drunk."

"I hate you. You're all clean and perfect and perky and ugh."

Kurt laughs at me yet again, before stepping closer and grabbing my arm to pull me out of bed. "Now get up you," he orders. "You should shower, it'll help you feel better."

"Nooo," I whine. "I just wanna stayed curled up in bed and die."

Kurt purses his lips. "If you take a shower and change into fresh clothes I will bring up some breakfast for you," he offers. When I just continue clutching the bed he rolls his eyes before adding, "And I will try my best to prevent Cooper from coming up here and bugging you. Oh, and Quinn and Rachel as well; they came back earlier this morning to see how you were doing."

I contemplate the offer for a minute. "Fine," I concede. "But only if you bring up wheat toast with Nutella, orange juice with pulp, French toast with lots of maple syrup, turkey bacon, and a medium drip."

Kurt sighs in exasperation as he leads me to the bathroom. "All right. God, you are so high maintenance."

"Hello Pot, how are you today?" I say back sarcastically.

"Ooh the puppy is getting his bite back," he responds, shoving clean clothes into my hands before he slams the bathroom door in my face.

Sadly, I fail to come up with a good comeback.

* * *

I'm sitting in the study, reading a book and minding my own business since Kurt says Blaine doesn't want me upstairs while in his hung-over state, when Rachel and Quinn come waltzing in. I can just tell they have something to share with me, what with the way Rachel is buzzing with excitement – though, admittedly, she does do that a lot and it's often something mundane, but if Quinn's in on whatever this is it's probably good - so I mark my place, set the book down, and give them my undivided attention – though I have reservations considering what a headache Rachel gives me much of the time when I'm in the same room as her for too long.

"We have some – interesting news to share," Quinn says in her diplomatic fashion.

"Now technically neither of us should know, but I think Kurt just really needed to get this off his chest – and obviously I can't keep anything from Quinn -"

I interrupt Rachel before she can start babbling without end for hours. "What are you two talking about? What'd Kurt tell you that you aren't supposed to know?"

They share a significant look, which I give an affectionate eye roll to, before Rachel gushes out, "Blaine and Kurt aren't really engaged."

I raise a skeptical brow.

Quinn expands. "Apparently Kurt was going to be deported back to France so, to make sure he can stay for their upcoming fashion show Blaine agreed to marry him until everything gets sorted out – as long as he was promoted and his designs were used more."

Rachel turns back to Quinn. "Wait, Kurt didn't tell me any of that," she says, confused.

"It's not hard to figure out baby," Quinn says with a sort of superior smirk.

Lips pursed and brow furrowed, I consider what Quinn just told me. "You know," I say, "now that I think about it I did feel like something was off. I mean it's clear Blaine is in love with Kurt, and vice versa but -"

"But they're just too oblivious to realize it," Quinn finishes.

"Exactly."

"Actually," Rachel speaks up, "I think Blaine's realizing he has feelings for Kurt. That's probably why he drank so much last night – he was either trying to bury the feelings or hoping the alcohol would help him figure them out."

I sigh. "That does sound like Blaine."

"And I got the feeling, when he told me about the engagement being fake, that Kurt's starting to feel bad about doing this to Blaine," Rachel continues. "I think he's developing feelings too, he's just further behind than Blaine is."

I frown. "He'd better feel bad," I say. "Because if Blaine falls in love with him, and I get the feeling he's already well on that path, and he breaks my little brother's heart – not to mention puts his career in jeopardy, and gets him tossed in jail – that boy is in for a world of hurt."

"Cooper, calm down," Quinn says, placing a soothing hand on my arm. "I don't think it's going to come to that – at least I hope it doesn't."

I hum in agreement, thinking about this whole odd situation when an idea comes to me.

"What if we make sure it doesn't come to that?" I ask.

"Pardon?" Quinn asks.

"What if we can find a way to make sure neither of them get hurt in all this?"

She furrows her brows, confused. "How would we do that?"

Rachel gasps in realization. "We start dropping hits to the both of them about the other, steer them in the right direction -"

"And eventually they'll see what's right in front of them," I finish with a smirk.

"That's all well and good," Quinn says, "but how exactly are we going to go about this?"

"I think I have an idea," I answer, the gears starting to churn in my head.

* * *

"Hey Kurt!" a voice exclaims all of a sudden from behind me.

I jump in shock and clutch at my chest. "Fuck Rachel, don't sneak up on a person like that!" I scold.

"I have to talk to you about something," she says, not sounding sorry at all.

I sigh, already exasperated with her. It probably doesn't help I've been dealing with a hung-over Blaine all day – who seems awfully spiteful today.

"So what was it you wanted?" I ask, turning around to face Rachel, getting ready to take up another cup of coffee for Blaine.

_Why am I taking care of him?_ I wonder for not the first time today. _His mother should be doing this. Or Cooper! He's the reason Blaine got drunk in the first place..._

"Why are you doing this to Blaine?" she asks, nay demands.

I raise a brow. "And what, exactly, do you think I'm doing to Blaine?"

"You're hurting him. All these secrets and lies – that's not what he needs. Not from the man he loves," she explains.

_Are those tears in her eyes? _I think incredulously.

I frown. "What are you talking about?" I ask, feigning confusion. "Blaine doesn't love me."

"Yes he does," she responds immediately. "And you _know _he does! So why are you treating all this like you don't care? Blaine could go to _jail _if INS found out this is all a sham. Not to mention the fact you're breaking a man who's still healing. "

"Because I don -"

"No, you _do _care!" Rachel interrupts. "Otherwise you wouldn't have felt like you had to tell me what's really going on. You need help in this, you just don't realize it."

What she's saying makes way too much sense, and I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about the fact that I could be breaking Blaine's heart, along with mine in the process. So I shove past her, though she tries hard to stop me, and head toward the stairs.

"I don't have time for whatever you're playing at Rachel," I call over my shoulder, forcing the quaver out of my voice. "I have a hung-over puppy to attend to."

* * *

"What the hell was that?" I demand in a stage whisper as Rachel walks back into the study. My hand itches to reach out and smack her upside the head, but I have a feeling Quinn wouldn't be too happy about that so I tamp the urge. "I told you to be _subtle_! Now everything's ruined!"

Rachel rolls her eyes at me, which just makes holding my hand back even harder. "Please, I know what I'm doing."

"Really?" I deadpan. "Because it seems to me you have no idea what you're doing!"

"Coop, calm down," Quinn says from beside me, twinning her fingers with the hand I wanted to smack Rachel with.

_She knows me too well,_ I think with a slight chuckle.

"Trust me Cooper," Rachel explains. "Kurt is just like me, I know him. He just needs a little push."

I give a relenting sigh. "I suppose you're right," I admit.

"Of course she is," Quinn says affectionately, all starry-eyed.

"You two are too adorable," I finally say, having been wanting to say that since last night. Quinn blushes slightly and Rachel beams. Before Rachel can start on another rant or something I say, "Now for the next part of the plan."

"Guess I'm up," Quinn says with a smirk.

* * *

**_A/N: Okay guys, I'm thinking song relatively soon, so I thought I would ask you guys what you feel would be good songs to use at this juncture. Seriously I am open to absolutely any suggestions so just let me know what you think! :)_**


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Hello all! So first off I'd like to apologize for my updates being so sporadic. My only explanation is that a) I can't write until I have inspiration, and b) I'm in my freshman year of uni so yeah haha. **_

_**Anywho, I really hope you like this chapter because I spent various points yesterday and today writing this - AND it's the first chapter that my pseudo-beta hasn't told me I need to adjust something haha.**_**  
**

_**Oh and fyi: this is the first chapter where a song is used! All I'm gonna tell you is that it's by Sara Bareilles; I'll let you find out for yourselves which one it is, and who sings it. ;)**_

* * *

"Hi Blaine," I hear Quinn say quietly from the doorway behind me.

I don't bother to roll over so I'm facing her; I don't really want to talk to anyone right now. "Go away Quinn," I grumble into the pillow. "I just want to be alone."

Much to my chagrin, the door clicks softly shut and the foot of the bed dips as Quinn sits down.

"Just, hear me out. Please," she begs.

"Why should I?" I ask. "I know I made a fool of myself in front of _everyone _last night. I would've told my father about all the wonderful sex I've had if Cooper hadn't stopped me, for Christ's sake. _And _Kurt has seen me with little to no clothes twice now. So just let me stew in my misery Quinn."

She sighs before speaking. "You didn't make a fool of yourself," she says. "Sure you drank more than you probably should have, but everyone at that party knows what kind of relationship you have with your father; they know it's hard for you to be in the same room as him for too long."

"Oh great," I groan. "So everybody just thinks I'm weak! Poor little Blainers can only deal with his asshole father when he gets smashed – and even then things don't go too well."

"Would you quit feeling sorry for yourself?!"

That question succeeds in rousing me. I open my eyes, roll over and sit up so that I can look at Quinn properly.

"Excuse me?"

She crosses her arms. "You heard me," she says. "We've been over this before Blaine, and we've gotten through this; you were just starting to feel better about yourself." Quinn reaches forward and curls her fingers around the hand I have resting on top of the covers. "So why the set back?"

The sympathetic look and the caressing of her thumb break down the wall I had put up this morning, when I thought I'd only be dealing with Kurt today. I look down at my lap instead of into Quinn's face, and turn my hand so our fingers intertwine and squeeze her hand.

"I'm pretty sure you know why," I mumble into my lap. "You always know, you and Cooper."

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't like to hear the reason come out of your mouth, instead of just assuming I know the answer," Quinn whispers back.

I turn my gaze on her, looking up through my eyelashes, sure the pain is clear. "Why do I keep falling for men who don't feel the same way about me?" I whisper, my voice cracking the more I talk.

Quinn frowns slightly. "How do you know Kurt doesn't return your love?"

I give a wet snort. "If he does he certainly has a funny way of showing it," I grumble.

"Oh so bringing you breakfast, making you coffee, and making sure no one disturbs you when you asked him to aren't actions that show he cares for you?" Quinn asks sarcastically, brow raised.

"I have to admit I was shocked when he agreed to do all that," I say, still in awe. "I've never seen Kurt be that nice to anyone before; it was nice for a change."

"So do you think that, just maybe, he's doing all this for you because he does have feelings for you?"

I shake my head immediately in denial. "Absolutely not. No way."

Quinn sighs sadly again. "Why are you so blind?"

I frown in confusion. "How do you mean?"

"You have this great guy in front of you that clearly loves you, but you have your head so far up your own -"

"Kurt does not love me, why do you -"

"He told Rachel," she interrupts.

I pause in shock. "What?"

She takes a deep breath before continuing. "Kurt told Rachel what's really going on," she elaborates. When I start to open my mouth to speak Quinn holds her free hand up to stop me. "Now before you start bitching let me finish." I sit back a little and set my mouth in a grim line. "He told Rachel about the fake engagement – because he feels bad for doing this to you, for hurting you like this. Kurt _loves _you Blaine, just as much as you love him. And the sooner the two of you realize this, the happier you'll both be."

I think about what Quinn just said before I speak, otherwise she'll bite my head off again. When I open my mouth again I talk slowly, thinking over the words as I say them.

"So what you're saying is that a guy, who can be both wonderful and infuriating at the same time, finally loves me as much as I love him, but we're both too blind and stubborn to see it and/or say anything to each other?" I ask carefully, my words slightly stilted.

"Yes," Quinn sighs out in exasperation. "That is _exactly _what is going on!"

"I want to believe you," I continue with a deep frown, my heart aching. "You know how fucking much I need this to be true – but I, I just can't accept it as truth until I hear the words from Kurt himself."

Her shoulders slump in defeat. "I was afraid you were going to say that…"

I smirk without humor, not bothering to respond as there is no need.

"Will you at least _try _talking to him?"

"You know the answer to that Quinn."

Her jaw sets as she grudgingly accepts that, before her eyes light up in determination.

"What if I found a way to show you that Kurt really does love you?" Quinn asks, the excitement level rising in her voice.

"And how, pray tell, would you do that?" I demand, skeptical. Quinn smirks. _Oh dear, _I think frightfully,_ Quinn's plotting another one of her evil schemes – once again revolved around me._

"Stay here," she orders as she backs toward the door, "I have to go get Cooper and Rachel. Then you shall see the truth."

My eyes widen involuntarily, and I gulp. _Fuck, I was hoping she wouldn't include them._

* * *

"Really?" I ask, dumbfounded, Quinn as soon as she finishes recounting her chat with Blaine. "He's really willing to do this?"

Quinn rolls her eyes at me. "Come on Cooper, this is Blaine we're talking about here," she says like it should be obvious to me.

"Yeah…" I respond, still a little confused. "And Blaine's always the oblivious one…"

"Which is why he needs to hear Kurt say for himself that he returns his feelings," Quinn finishes the sentence for me, getting impatient. "Otherwise he won't believe us and he'll just continue on this track, thinking Kurt hates him or something."

I sigh, "Oh my brother is so very thick-headed."

Quinn smiles. "Which is why we're giving him, and Kurt, a little push here."

I nod and take a deep breath. "Alright," I say, letting the breath out. "How are we gonna do this?"

Rachel speaks up, surprisingly, for the first time, "I have an idea."

I turn to face her, resisting the urge to prematurely roll my eyes. "Do I want to hear this?"

Rachel says, very confidently as per usual, "Of course you do; it's a brilliant plan."

_Well I hadn't thought of anything yet, so I guess I'd better hear her out, _I think._ And, I have to admit, she has been a great help with the Kurt half of this._

So I bite my tongue, give a brave smile, and brace myself for whatever no doubt ridiculous plan Rachel has come up with.

* * *

It's past midnight, so I try to walk quietly as I can into the attic so as not to wake Blaine. But it seems he was waiting up for me because the bedside lamp is on; he's wearing his glasses, and reading a book. When he hears me enter he glances up over his glasses – _God why is that so fucking sexy?_ – and he sets his book down on his lap.

I pause awkwardly in the doorway as he just stares up at me through those damned glasses, not saying a word. _What is going on? Why is he staring at me; do I have something on my face? _I panic.

After a few minutes of that I can't take it any longer, so finally I speak. "Why are you staring at me?" I ask, going for my usual demanding tone, but only succeeding in sounding self-conscious. I grimace inwardly. _Great Kurt, real becoming, let's make him think he should do just the opposite of what I want._

I swear I hear Blaine chuckle and see a laughing sparkle in his eyes, but then his hands move up to remove his glasses and block my view of his face. After he sets them down on the bedside table with his book, I expect him to answer my question, but he just goes back to his staring. I get the feeling he's examining my soul or something, so I start to fidget, trying to avoid meeting his eyes.

At last, at _fucking_ last, he says something. "Why won't you look me in the eyes?" he asks, catching me off guard.

"Wh-what do you mean? Of co-course I look you in the eyes," I respond much too quickly, stumbling over my words.

This time he snorts at my words, but I don't have the heart to glare at him because I'm too busy trying to calm myself.

"Ho-honestly Blaine, I have no idea what you mean," I try again, this time getting up the courage to look him in the eyes while I speak, looking away as soon as the last word is out.

Blaine sighs in what appears to be annoyance, since I see him pinch the bridge of his nose out of the corner of my eye. "Please Kurt…" he mumbles. "Can we just stop this farce? I am so _damn_ sick of it."

I gulp, afraid he's figured out my budding feelings for him. "And what farce would that be?" I force out.

I chance another glance at Blaine, and my heart just sinks a bit when I see something, some light die in his eyes before he shakes his head and gets out of bed, heading toward the doorway behind me.

"Just forget it," he mutters as he shoves past me, slamming the door shut behind him, making me jump.

_What – what just happened? Did I just fuck up royally?_

* * *

_Why did I have to stare at him like that? _I ask myself angrily as I shuffle my way downstairs. _Why did I have to open my fucking mouth?_

"I knew Quinn was wrong…" I sniffle, once again forcing back tears. "God," I groan quietly, "I've cried more these past few days than I have in the past year, after Jeremiah."

I shake my head rapidly to get rid of thoughts of the past, choosing instead to focus on the present predicament at hand. The only sure fire way I know to help deal with my enormous amount of feelings is through song, so I head toward the study and the piano – not an unfamiliar midnight haunt for me.

Once I reach it I sit upon the bench, lift the lid, and warm up my fingers still stiff from spending too much time out in the blizzard the other day. The ivory keys feel glorious beneath my fingers, much like a long lost friend. My eyes drift shut as I let go and just let the song flow through my fingers, my voice following shortly after.

"Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long. No matter what I say or do, I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone," I sing, starting to become engrossed. "You hold me without touch. You keep me without chains. I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain."

Somehow singing makes me feel better, even though it's not the happiest song I've played. Granted, it's not the saddest one either…

The chorus I sing wholeheartedly, forgetting that it's way past midnight and everyone else is probably asleep. "Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity. Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be. But you're on to me and all over me."

My fingers stumble slightly as I get completely caught up in the emotion of the song, the emotion of the moment. I just push through it though, by now used to playing and singing when I'm at my most vulnerable.

"You loved me 'cause I'm fragile. When I thought that I was strong. But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone." My voice cracks on this stanza, as I recall my drunken night before, when I asked Kurt to cuddle with me.

I sing through the chorus again, my heart thudding sporadically in my ears, tears now streaming calmly down my face.

"I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you're everything I think I need here on the ground. But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go," I sing the last stanza, thinking of the whole day; thinking of the fact that Kurt was so sweet and kind while I was in my hung-over state. "The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down. You're on to me, on to me, and all over... Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long."

As soon as I sing and play the last notes, my final reserves fall and I collapse forward onto the piano, sobs ripping through my throat. I'm so lost in despair I don't even care that I'm not treating the piano kindly, or that there's a small chance someone could walk in on me. In fact multiple someones do, and they're just the people I need right now: Cooper and Quinn.

"Shh sweetie shhh," Quinn says in a soothing whisper, stroking her fingers through my curls while I clutch at Cooper, my tears soaking through his sweater.

* * *

I stand slightly to the side of the doorway, watching Quinn and Cooper comfort Blaine after his beautiful rendition of "Gravity".

"I – I never knew he was so…" is the first thing I say, shocked at his talent and aghast at the sheer emotion.

Rachel hums in acknowledgment. "Yeah, he could have gone professional or Broadway, but he decided on fashion instead," she explains.

"The power, the emotion," I mutter. "Did – did I do that?" I ask, not expecting an answer.

Rachel, surprisingly, does stay silent.

"I – Why – How didn't I -" I'm at a loss for words. There's just this feeling in my chest, like my heart is breaking for Blaine, while at the both my heart and mind demand of me how I could do this; how I could break someone as incredibly beautiful as Blaine.

The despair must have shown on my face because next I know Rachel places her hand on my cheek and turns my head so I'm facing her.

"You can fix this," she says earnestly. "You can make this up to him."

"How?" I demand, my voice cracking.

She smiles sadly. "You'll see," she says. "Quinn, Cooper, and I will help you."

* * *

I look up from kissing the top of Blaine's head affectionately and rubbing his back soothingly, and meet Kurt's eyes – and see the guilt and utter despair there. When he notices that our eyes have met his expression changes; all of a sudden I see determination there – and I take that as a good sign.


	10. Chapter 10

_***gasp* A new chapter - and so soon?! When I had an English paper to write?! That I totally just finished about 1.5 hours ago?! What is wrong with me! :O**_

_**Hahah nahh I was just struck by lots of inspiration a couple days ago again. :P**_

* * *

After I calm down a bit the girls take me back to their hotel room for the rest of the night; I just need to get out of the house and away from _him._ When we arrive I operate on autopilot, not even paying attention to my surroundings.

Rachel opens the door, and Quinn leads me in. I instinctively head toward the bed, crawl under the turned-down covers, and curl up into a ball; not even bothering to even take off my shoes, let alone get even a little bit undressed.

While Quinn changes into her pajamas Rachel pulls the blankets down so she can take off my shoes, making me shiver. Once she's done with that Rachel starts in on my coat, waiting for Quinn to be done so they can sit me up and pull the coat off. I just let them undress me like a doll; I don't have the strength to resist.

Once they're both changed, and have me stripped down to my shirt and boxers, Quinn hands me a spare pair of pants so I'll be more comfortable. At first I just stare at them blankly, but eventually I realize what I'm supposed to do with them, and numbly pull them on. As soon as I finish Rachel pushes me back down into the bed before both she and Quinn lie down on either side of me, pull the covers back up, then curl around me, each twinning their fingers with each of my hands on my stomach.

"Thank you," I say out of habit, recalling the various other times Quinn, and occasionally Rachel, did this for me. They both squeeze my hands and kiss my cheek in reply. One last tear crawls its way down my cheek before I fall into a restless slumber.

* * *

"You can make it up to him, you know," Cooper says as he stands in the doorway of the attic, arms crossed over his chest, eyes examining me as I sit in a sort of fetal position.

"Rachel said that too," I mumble glumly to my knees. "I still don't see how I can."

"There is a way," he says cryptically. When I just stare back in silent confusion Cooper rolls his eyes at me and elaborates. "Just tell him the truth."

"Seriously?" I deadpan. I get off the bed and start pacing around the room as I rant. "How the _fuck _am I supposed to tell Blaine how I feel when you know for a fact that he's not going to want to stay in the same room as me, let alone listen to a word I'm saying?!"

Cooper ignores the question. "How do you feel about Blaine?" he asks; whether he just wants to hear me say it or he honestly doesn't know, I can't tell.

I stop and glare at him. "You know how I feel about him." He just stares back, waiting. I sigh in exasperation and throw my hands in the air. "Fine, you want me to actually say it? I love him, okay?! I – love – Blaine."

After a minute more of examining my face, most likely to see if I'm telling the truth, he smirks. "Good," he finally says. "I was hoping you would say that."

My mouth drops open. When Cooper continues to smirk at me I growl and run my hands through my hair in frustration. "Ugh why are you Andersons so damn _frustrating?_"

Cooper laughs outright at that. "Just a talent I guess," he snickers.

This time I roll my eyes at him. "All right," I sigh out. "Now you've heard me say it, how exactly am I supposed to tell Blaine?"

He grins. "It's simple," Cooper replies. "We lock the two of you in the same room."

* * *

I fidget in my seat in the study, waiting impatiently for Cooper to come back with whatever surprise he has in store for me.

_It's probably something incredibly odd and oh so disturbing, knowing my brother, _I think, gnawing on my bottom lip.

I hear a slight scuffle in the doorway, and I look up just in time to see Cooper, Rachel, and Quinn shoving Kurt through the door before slamming it shut. By the time I reach it a click on the other side.

"What the fuck Coop?" I exclaim, confused and pissed off that he'd really pull something like this.

"You two have a nice chat now," he yells back. "Because I'm not letting either of you out until you have a serious talk."

I kick the door, – which is solid oak by the way - not thinking in my anger, and end limping back to my chair to massage my foot.

Kurt takes a small, tentative step toward me. "Are you all right?" he asks, concern clear on his face.

"I'm fine," I snap, cutting him off. He falls silent, and when I glance back up I see his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, his gaze downcast. I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing. "I'm sorry…"

"No," he says back quietly. "I'm the one that should be apologizing."

I upturn my brows, skeptical. "Really? What for?" I ask, honestly curious as to what exactly he's apologizing for.

Kurt sighs. "For everything. For forcing you into this, for risking your career and freedom, for lying to your family and friends," he explains. "I'm _really _sorry for treating you like shit all these years, especially when you've been nothing but a huge help."

"Well that's big of -"

"But mostly," he continues, "mostly I am so, _so _sorry for, first, leading you on… Then for – for not telling you the truth…"

I wait this time before I say anything, waiting for him to say what exactly the truth is, but he doesn't say anything more.

"What truth is that?" I coax, desperate to get out of here.

"I mean, I certainly don't know your life story, but nobody – especially you – deserves this," Kurt says, avoiding the question and my eyes. "I can't have been easy growing up in this house, in this state, and I just shit on you just when you're doing well and -"

"Kurt!" I interrupt to stop his babbling. He quits talking, eyes still focused on his shoes. "What – what do you mean about not telling me the truth? What haven't you told me that you should have?"

He continues staring at the floor, but now he's really fidgeting; his twist his scarf, which I know for a fact, is a habit he hates. Ignoring my brain, which is yelling at me to just leave him be, and going with my heart instead, I slowly extricate myself from the armchair and hobble over to Kurt. When I reach him he still won't look at me, so I reach out my hand and lift his chin with my index finger so he'll look me in the eye. Still, he doesn't meet my gaze.

"Kurt," I say quietly. "What's the truth?"

I search his face as the words form on his lips. Finally, just when he's about to speak, Kurt's eyes meet mine.

"I love you," he whispers brokenly.

I have been waiting days – _Has it really only been a few __**days**__? _– for him to say that, but for several minutes I don't react; all I can do is stand there, staring into those mesmerizing eyes. Just when Kurt's opening his mouth, no doubt to question why I haven't replied, I rush forward those last few inches and seal our mouths together.

After a quick gasp, and a moment of utter stillness, Kurt moans, kissing me feverishly. Unsatisfied, I plunge my tongue in without asking permission; he twines his fingers in my hair in reply, yanking to draw a moan from me. My hands roughly grab his hips, fingers digging into the exposed skin. I unconsciously go up on my toes, catching Kurt by surprising and making him stumble back, taking me with him. The door rattles with the impact of his body. With my atrocious balance, I trip when Kurt stops, causing our hips to meet and draw moans out of us both. My right leg automatically slots between his, and I rub it up and down, creating delicious friction.

Surprised that no one has barged in, wondering what the commotion is, I pull back, remembering I never actually acknowledged Kurt's admission. I lean my forehead against his and rub our noses together, signaling him to open his eyes. When he does I look into them, take a deep breath, and say, rather hoarsely, "I love you too."

* * *

Rachel claps gleefully, excited that our boys are finally getting shit done; Quinn just smirks in cat-like satisfaction. I sigh in relief; glad Blaine actually listened for once.

I quietly unlock the door, and then we creep away, not wanting to disturb Kurt and Blaine.

* * *

Tired of being the one with my back against the door, I take a tighter grip on Blaine's hair and spin us around, slamming him back. The door creaks again, but it's locked so it should be fine. I remove his hands from my hips – with a bit of reluctance I might add – and pin them on either side of his head. Instinctively I lean forward, trying to bear down on him, but as soon as I do the door gives way, making Blaine fall back with a yelp – and, because I was leaning my weight toward him, I go down as well, landing on top of Blaine with an oomph.

After a second we burst out into incessant laughter, finding the situation more hilarious than it really is. Once we finally calm down we have to take a minute to catch our breath – but once we do our eyes meet again and my breath catches in my throat.

"Hi," Blaine says breathily, his eyes shifting between my own and my lips.

I can't help but grin. "Hello yourself," I reply before dipping down to place a light kiss on his lips. When I pull back, Blaine's lips follow mine, making me chuckle.

"Mmm…" he hums contently, eyes still closed. "That was nice. I request a continuance."

I snort. "Do you really?" I snicker, deciding to move past his interesting wording. "How about we move this upstairs?"

This time he groans and wraps his arms around my waist, trying to prevent me getting up. "Nooo," he whines. "Too comfy down here, and there are too many stairs."

I stand up with my legs on either side of his, and then attempt to pull him up. Blaine, however, apparently deciding to be childish, makes himself deadweight, preventing me from moving him more than a couple inches.

"Dammit Blaine, stop it," I huff, getting frustrated. When he only giggles in response, I decide to give up and drop his hands, heading toward the staircase.

"Waaaaiiiit!" he calls from behind me, scrambling up and clutching my hand when he reaches me.

I shake my head at him. "You are too fucking adorable," I mutter, kissing his cheek affectionately, making him blush.

* * *

Upon reaching my room, I drag Kurt to the bed, where we both sit down. Not out of context, he leans forward to restart the make-out, but I lean back to avoid him. He looks back at me with a slightly injured look and a little pout.

"Hey no," I hush, placing my hand on his cheek, stroking it with my thumb. "I just want – Can we just talk please?" I query.

Kurt sighs in relief and smiles, turning his face to kiss the palm of my hand, making me smile in return. "Of course, sweetie," he responds. "What would you like to talk about?"

My heart melts at the pet name, but then I set my head to the task at hand.

"Well first," I start, "is this…" I motion between the two of us, feeling like a clueless teenager for needing to ask this question. "Are we – official?"

This time Kurt places his hand on my cheek. When he leans forward, I expect a peck on the lips like before, so I upturn mine – but instead he kisses the tip of my nose, making me smile.

"Of course sweetie," he says, as if it's obvious – which it probably is.

I grin in relief. "Okay," I sigh. "I had to make sure; I've been wrong before." My grin turns somewhat sheepish, but self-deprecating.

Kurt frowns. "About that…" he inquires tentatively. "What – what happened with, um, what happened before? Because Rachel mentioned how you've been hurt before and you've only just finished recovering from that – I mean, I understand if you don't want to talk about it, I just – if you do, I'm right here, okay?"

I smile at how incredibly and genuinely sweet my boyfriend – _boyfriend _– is. "No, I – I want to talk about it, with you; you deserve to know," I say, trying to figure out how to word this. I decide to just dive in. "His name was Jeremiah Finch."

* * *

_**A/N: Drama/angst - confessions - hot make-out sessions - adorableness - serious conversation**_

_**Whoa, so much in one chapter! :O  
**_

_**So who's looking forward to the Jeremiah story?! ;)  
**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Sorry this chapter took a little longer! I've had papers to write and shit, and some exciting personal stuff. ;P But here we are - gettin' to the good stuff! Let me know what y'all think - and, as always, let me know if you have any questions/suggestions/requests. :)**_

* * *

Just saying the name seems to set his teeth on edge so I grab ahold of Blaine's hand and stroke the back with my thumb. This seems to help him relax just a tiny bit so I keep at it.

He takes another deep breath before continuing. "We'd been dating since my sophomore year of high school," Blaine starts off. "I met him at the GAP, where he was a junior manager. He was a little hesitant at first, considering I was still 16 and he was 18 – and my serenade using 'When I Get You Alone' on Valentine's Day certainly didn't help – but he finally came around." He pauses, a slight smile on his lips. "I was happy as could be; I actually had a boyfriend – in Ohio of all places.

"Then, after I graduated, I asked him to move to New York with me; it'd always been my dream, I'd been talking about it for years, and I just expected him to come with me. He did, after a little coaxing." Blaine stops again, his eyes shifting down to his lap to gaze at our intertwined hands. He lifts them and kisses the back of my hand, drawing a tiny smile out of me, before continuing once again. "We had a few fights, nothing too huge – at least I didn't think so. Which is why on our fifth anniversary I decided to propose."

This time the pause is so long it makes me wonder if he's all right retelling all this, so I place my free hand on his cheek and turn his head so it's facing me, thumb stroking his cheek. "Are you okay?" I ask quietly, concern clear in my voice. "You don't have to finish telling me this if you don't want to."

Blaine gives me a watery smile, nuzzling into my hand. "I want to – _need_ to tell you. Just – I just needed a moment," he mumbles back. I smile encouragingly then kiss the tip of his nose again to give him a little comfort and courage. He exhales slowly before starting back up. "He said yes but, now that I look back on it, he did so rather hesitantly – but I was really young and in love; I didn't know how to gauge that sort of thing. So, a few weeks later, it came as an immense shock when I came home from a long day of rehearsal for a theatre production I was in to find all of Jeremiah's things in boxes and suitcases stacked up by the door – I almost tripped over them actually."

He lets out another breath, this one shaky. "I – I searched for him throughout the apartment, calling his name and finally found him in the bedroom packing away the rest of his clothes." Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, most likely trying to prevent the tears I saw in them to start rolling out. "I confronted him, asking what the hell was going on and h-he said, 'I can't do this anymore Blaine.' I asked what he meant, what was wrong, what I could do to fix it, and all he said was, 'There's nothing to do; there's nothing to fix.'"

I frown deeply, teeth grinding and my right hand dropping from his cheek and clenching tightly into a fist.

"I followed him down the stairs, trying to grab back the box he was carrying and asking what I did wrong but he just ignored me. When we got outside I noticed a moving truck on the curb in front of our building and I just – I just panicked even more; I wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I could, refusing to let go until he explained what was going on, what I could do and he – he just shoved me aside and screamed, 'I don't love you Blaine, and I never have.'"

My vision goes red with fury, an occurrence that hasn't happened to me since I first came to the States. _I swear, if I ever run into this Jeremiah he will never again see the light of day, _I think savagely.

Blaine swallows thickly and sniffles, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand to try and dry the tears. "And the whole time he's going back and forth putting his stuff in the truck, I just sit there on the sidewalk where I collapsed, completely numb. I was so numb that I didn't even notice when people would trip over me, run into me, and yell obscenities; one guy even spilled hot coffee on me. I didn't notice any of this until Rachel and Cooper carried me up the stairs and put me in the shower, the water freezing cold.

"That snapped me out of the stupor – but then the tears came. I was sobbing so hard that I couldn't even explain what was going on, why the apartment was practically empty; I just clutched at Cooper, never wanting to let go." I swipe away the tears falling steadily down his cheeks and kiss the top of his head. Blaine smiles at me briefly. "Well I was like that for months," he continues; "it got so bad that my understudy took over, I lost my job, and I would've had to take the semester off if it hadn't been the summer. Luckily Quinn was able to come up and stay with me, since Coop had to go back to LA – though he fought his hardest to try and stay.

"Finally the three of them forced me to clean up my act, or they would send me back to the therapist," he finishes. "Not long after that I got your internship, and yeah."

I frown. "What do you mean they forced you?" I demand.

Blaine squeezes my hand and smiles slightly again. "Don't worry, they didn't do anything horrible," he explains. "They just reminded me of what I had to deal with back in junior high and freshman year of high school, and all the courage I had to build up to deal with that, then transfer to Dalton."

It's like a light bulb goes off in my head when he says that. "Courage…" I reply. "The tattoo on your chest is -"

"An outline of a heart that says courage in script through it," Blaine finishes. "Yeah, I got that to remind myself how important courage is – and to never let myself get so depressed again. It's cheesy, I know…"

"Hey, no," I say instantly, stroking his cheek again. "If that's what you need to do, then that's what you need to do – don't ever let anyone tell you differently."

Blaine leans forward slightly so that our foreheads are touching, then nuzzles his nose against mine affectionately. "You're adorable," I giggle, still stroking his cheek, my eyes now closed.

"And you're really sweet," he whispers back before capturing my lips in a soft kiss. I instinctively take a deep breath, sitting up slightly so that it's easier to lean down and increase the pressure. Blaine gives a sigh that sounds like a small moan, his eyes no doubt sliding shut as well. I feel his hands travel down to my hips and squeeze before they start stroking my sides and back, the motions sending tingles up and down my spine. The hand I have lying against his cheek inches back until it reaches the nap of his neck, where it alternately clutches the hair and massages the scalp. My other hand makes its way up Blaine's chest so that it can grasp his bow tie and force him up to deepen the kiss even more.

Letting out a shaky breath as he trails small kisses across my cheek and jaw, then down my neck, I lean my head to the opposite side to give him better access and clutch tighter at his hair, making him moan and mouth at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, no doubt leaving a hickey there. Needing more contact, I grip his hair in both my hands and bring his mouth back up to mine, licking at his lips. When he grants me entrance my tongue immediately dives in, licking at the back of his teeth and stroking his own tongue. Blaine moans again and clutches tighter at my hips, pulling me into his lap and situating the both of us until our slightly tented jeans brush just right, making me moan as well this time. We shift a bit so that Blaine's lying on the bed and I'm on top of him, dry humping like teenagers caught-up in the moment.

"Mm," he hums, pulling away slightly. "Wait, ju-just hold on."

I whine in consternation. "Whyyyy?" I ask, opening my eyes slightly to look at him.

Blaine stares back, lust and love mixing in his eyes. He reaches up and strokes my cheek lightly with the back of his hand, the lust dimming and the love winning out. "You have such pretty eyes," he mutters. I duck my head and blush in embarrassment. "Hey now, none of that," he says firmly, turning his hand over to cup my cheek and lift my face. "You are beautiful; don't you ever doubt that."

I lean into his hand again and kiss the palm. "How did I get so lucky?" I wonder aloud.

Blaine chuckles and smirks, stroking my face some more. "I was just wondering the same thing."

* * *

We spend the next few hours just lying there, cuddling together and kissing lightly, once in a while progressing into little make-out sessions. Kurt occasionally inserts his fingers into my hair, stroking my scalp, causing me to doze off – which isn't too bad actually, since he just inches a bit closer each time and kisses the tip of my nose adorably.

I let my right hand wander slightly, massaging his lower back and making him arch forward, his pelvis coming into closer contact with mine. His leg instinctively moves up and hooks around both my mine; my hand inches down to it to lift it slightly so that it's more around my waist, then my hand strokes his thigh and butt. Kurt moans quietly, rushing forward to capture my lips with his own, our tongues entangling immediately.

We kiss like that for a bit, our hips rocking gently back and forth, seeking just the smallest amount friction. At one point Kurt jerks his hips just sharply enough, making mine answer in kind. I break off before we can do any more of that, wanting to wait till the right time, until we're both absolutely ready for that and comfortable, not just horny. I rest my forehead in the crook of his shoulder, my nose nuzzling his neck.

Kurt whines; I take a deep breath before responding. "I'm sorry," I pant slightly, "I just don't want to go too far too soon; I want to do this right."

"Shh…" Kurt murmurs in my ear, stroking my hair again. "I understand completely; that's what I want too - so it's a good thing one of us was able to put a stop to it before we get too far."

I start laughing and the both of us dissolve into nonsensical giggles, drifting to sleep in each other's arms soon after.

The next morning I wake up with the sun curled into Kurt's side, my head lying on his chest and my leg flung over his waist, his arms wrapped tightly around my abdomen, keeping me as close as possible. When I shift a bit to work out the small kinks in my back and legs I take notice of a certain morning friend jamming his happy little self into Kurt's hip. Apparently Kurt notices at the same time I do because he groans and rolls onto his side so that we're facing each other and our hips slot together, making me moan myself as his erection meets mine.

"Well good morning," he says groggily, his eyes cracking open and a tiny smile on his lips. I puff out a breath in a faux chuckle, pecking him on the lips – to which he jerks back and glares at me. "Nuh uh, don't think so mister – I have morning breath."

This time I do laugh. "Don't care," I respond, pulling him closer with the arms I just wrapped around his lower back so that I can kiss him again. Kurt whines in the back of his throat before giving in and kissing me back, his lips parting a tiny bit as he breaths out a small sigh.

Kurt pulls back slowly this time, leaning his forehead against mine. "So I would offer to help out with your little problem in exchange for you helping me out with mine buuuut we did agree last night that we were going to take this slow."

I sigh in exasperation with myself. "Indeed we did… Why'd we do that again?"

Kurt laughs. "Because we're being sensible and neither of us wants to mess this up," he replies.

"Ah yes, that," I say coolly, making him smack me lightly on the shoulder.

At that moment my mother decides to knock on the door, announcing she has breakfast for the two of us. Kurt giggles into his hand silently as I roll my eyes. "Mom, it's only 7:30 in the morning," I call to her, sitting up in bed with the pillows propped up behind our backs and Kurt tucked into my side, his head resting comfortably on my shoulder. He kisses the side of my neck, and I the top of his head, before I inform Mother she can enter, double-checking that the blankets suitably cover our laps.

"Good morning boys!" Mother says way too cheerily for this early in the morning. "Here are some cinnamon rolls and some coffee for the two of you."

Kurt beams at the mention of coffee. "Wow, how very thoughtful of you!" he says, sitting up straighter to take the proffered beverage. I shake my head affectionately, grabbing a roll and eating half in one bite, earning a glare from the both of them. "Really Blaine?" he demands.

Mother rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me. "Oh Blaine," she sighs. "I really thought I taught you better."

I stick out my tongue at the both of them, chewed up cinnamon roll on it. "Mm that's hot," Kurt deadpans. I grin, swallowing then leaning forward to kiss him noisily on the cheek, making him cringe. "Ugh Blaine, that is seriously disgusting." I just grin cheekily. He rolls his eyes and shoves my shoulder, making me laugh.

Mother aww's from next to the bed. "You two are being awfully adorable this morning," she observes, smiling at us.

"Indeed you are," Cooper says, walking in with a huge grin on his face. "Any particular reason?" he asks with a huge wink.

Kurt snorts and rolls his eyes at him. "Like you don't already know," he mumbles. I laugh and cuddle him from behind, snuffling my nose into the back of his neck where his hairline ends, drawing a content sigh out of him.

"What's going on in here, why isn't anyone in the dining room? Breakfast starts in ten minutes people," Father says, barging into the room after Coop.

Mother turns around to glare at him, hands on her hips. "I thought the boys would like to have some privacy for once," she says. "They have been spending all their time with everyone else, they deserve some alone time."

He responds immediately. "Alone time is the _last _thing these two need. What they _do _need is someone to break through their thick skulls to help them understand that what they're doing to wr-"

"Okay, I am sick and tired of your bullshit," Kurt interrupts, extracting himself from my arms and marching over to Father. "I would like to have a talk with you, _sir._"

"Fine by me, I've been wanting to talk with you myself," he responds, motioning for Kurt to go ahead of him down the staircase.

I watch them leave, wide eyed. "Fuck…" _What's Kurt going to do now…? What's going to happen this time? _I scramble out of bed to go after them, ignoring the sound of Cooper and Mother following behind.

* * *

_**Oh, if any of you are curious about what exactly Blaine's tattoo looks like, there is a link with a picture of my tattoo - which his is based off of, except mine's on the inside of my left wrist - in my profile about me thing.  
**_

_**Ciao belli! [Bye beautifuls/handsomes, for all y'all who don't know Italian ;)]  
**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**I am so, so, so, so, so, so (x infinity) this update has taken so long. Writer's block is no excuse for going nearly six months without a word, and I cannot apologize enough. I hope this chapter is up to par, and hopefully the next won't take terribly long - and if it does you have my permission to kick my ass to the Andromeda galaxy and back. xx**_

* * *

I scurry after Kurt and Father, catching up at the bottom of the staircase. Pulling him to a stop, I turn Kurt so that he's facing me. Clutching him by the shoulders, I look him in the eyes.

"Kurt, you don't have to do this," I stress.

He takes ahold of my face, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. "Yes, I do," he says. "He can't keep treating you, treating me, like shit. You're his son for fuck's sake and he needs to understand that he's hurting you." Then he leans down and kisses me on the forehead. "Come with me if you'd like." He pulls out of my grasp and continues after Father toward his study.

Sighing in frustration at his stubbornness, I walk into the study and find Father already sitting behind his desk, fingers steepled in front of his face with a critical stare.

"Well," he demands, "what was it you wanted to say to me exactly?"

Kurt stays standing with his hands on his hips, in his "bitch please" stance – so I know he really means business. "We already had this talk when I first got here Mr. Anderson; you're a homophobic, judgmental prick – and that is the opposite of what Blaine needs. You have to stop insulting him just because he doesn't enjoy the 'right' things," he uses air quotes. "Just because he loves fashion and musicals doesn't make him any different than you. He's still human."

From the look on Father's face I can tell he's going to become fed up with Kurt soon enough. He already had a talk similar to this with Cooper, Rachel, and Quinn years ago, and look where that got me. I tell Kurt exactly that, speaking softly into his ear so Father won't hear.

Grabbing my hand, Kurt says at normal volume, "I'm glad someone else has tried to stand up for you before now Blaine, but I think maybe he needs to hear this from an outsider." He turns back to Father. "Mr. Anderson, your sons are two of the best men I've ever met, especially Blaine – and I can't for the life of me understand how that can be. Most likely it's all the work of your wife.

"But Blaine has the biggest heart and the largest ambition; he could go anywhere with his talent – whether he continues to go into fashion, or he decides to go back to music (which I really think he ought to do)." He steps forward and leans his hands on the edge of the desk so that his eyes are level with Father's.

"What you need to understand here is that he has worked all his life to please you. All he's ever wanted is your love and acceptance. Why won't you give it to him? He deserves it and more. Please sir (I can't believe I'm saying please to you of all people), please just see what a great son you have here and give him what he wants."

Sitting silent for a few moments, Father just stares at Kurt as if he can't decide what to say. When he finally spoke it was in that lone tone of voice he uses when he's particularly angry with someone. "What right do you have to tell me what to do when it comes to my family? What right do you have to tell me what my own son is like? I know what he's like, I raised him for eighteen years. And you know what that is?" A rhetorical question, but I could tell Kurt was itching to give an actually answer. "He's an ungrateful little bastard. I send him to one of the best private schools in the state, pay for his silly little music lessons, hoping he would grow out of it soon enough. And what do I get in return? He decides to go into _fashion_ of all things, adding to the disgrace Cooper brought to this family by becoming a godforsaken 'actor'.

"So you want me to give him love and acceptance? What for? He hasn't done anything to deserve it as far as I'm considered. So you can keep your faggot little nose out of my business –"

I can't stand it anymore. "FATHER!" I exclaim, forcing myself to keep still, forcing myself not to rush forward and, and I don't even know. "You do _not _get to use that word in front of Kurt, in front of me, let alone use it to refer to either of us."

Standing up behind his big fancy desk, Father points a finger at me. "You do not get to use that tone of voice with me young –"

"I wasn't done speaking, _Father,_" I interrupt.

"What is so wrong about being creative, about loving the arts? What is so wrong about wanting to do something that the rest of the Anderson clan hasn't already done and made a name in?" I demand. Of course he doesn't answer. "But if Coop and I disgrace us so much, why keep us a part of the family? Mother forced you, didn't she? She has been my and Cooper's saving grace for _years_, when the only time you could deal with us was when we were doing your bidding. Honestly, I have no fucking idea how we've all dealt with you all these years, especially Mother.

"But I am sick and fucking tired of putting up with your shit. And there is absolutely no fucking way I am letting you pull this same shit with Kurt. You have _no _right to judge him. You have _no _idea what he's like, how great of a man he is because you haven't even _tried _to get to know him! But what else is there to expect? You never tried to get to know me or Coop, or Rachel, your niece, or Quinn, who's been the best friend anyone could ask for.

"I am done with you," I say before grabbing Kurt's hand and leading him out.

He squeezes my hand as we walk. "I am so proud of you," he whispers, kissing the shell of my ear. "I know how hard that must have been."

"Actually it was quite cathartic to finally get that off my chest," I sort of laugh, feeling sort of lighter.

* * *

We stand outside the door to Father's study, not wanting to barge in but wanting to hear what's going on. When Blaine starts speaking, when he says all those things… I feel a proud big brother moment there. He finally stood up for himself, finally said all that had been eating away at him. But when I turn to Mother, I see tears shining in her eyes.

"Mother…" I whisper, reaching out to her.

She shakes her head at me, her jaw clenched and resolve shining in her eyes.

"I am done with you," we hear Blaine say with finality before he storms out, Kurt's hand clutched in his own. The two of them don't seem to notice us standing right outside the door as they walk by.

As soon as they're gone Mother storms in before I can stop her.

"Get out of my house," she says, arms crossed over her chest.

Father at least has the dignity to look shocked and hurt. "Patricia! What – This is my house! Why are you kicking me out?!"

Mother looks up at the ceiling, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Blaine is right, I don't know how I've put up with you all these years," she says. "But I do know that I am done with you treating my boys like this." She directs her gaze back at him, anger and disgust shining there. "So pack you shit and get out of my house."

Standing there, mouth gaping, Father turns to me as if he expects me to stand up for him. I raise a skeptical brow. "Really?" I say. "Listen to the woman and get out before I have to stop her from gouging out your eyes."

Pushing back his chair and walking around the desk, Father leaves with a dazed expression.

There's silence for a few moments as I let Mother calm down, until I can't help myself any longer.

"You know your Southern accent really comes out when you're angry?" I point out, trying to lighten the mood.

It works. With a small giggle and an affectionate – at least I hope it's affectionate – roll of the eyes, Mother shoves me lightly. "Oh Cooper… Let's go see if your brother's okay."

* * *

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watch Blaine pace around the room, muttering to himself and occasionally running his hands through his hair.

"Are you sure you're all right?" I ask once again, still worried. When there's still no answer I continue. "It's okay to be upset you know; you did just basically freeze out your father."

Blaine laughs, continuing to pace. "Of course I'm all right, why wouldn't I be all right?"

I get off the bed and stand in his path so that he has to stop in front of me, and I take ahold of his shoulders and look down into his eyes. "Because you've been pacing around your bedroom for nearly ten minutes now, muttering to yourself and running your hands through your hair. You're starting to make me worry."

He sighs and leans his forehead up against mine. "I'm sorry," he mutters, closing his eyes. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

I keep my own eyes open so I can continue to watch Blaine's face. "I – Is there anything I can do?"

Blindly, Blaine reaches around until he finds my hands so he can grasp them tightly. "I'm just worried about what Mother will say once she finds out," he admits quietly.

"She will say that she is very proud of you," Patricia says just as I was opening my mouth to say something, "and that she is very sorry for not doing something sooner herself."

Spinning out of my grasp, Blaine flings himself into his mother's arms, muttering into her shoulder. "Oh Mama, I'm sorry I've caused so much trouble."

"Mama? You haven't called me that since you were four years old!" Patricia laughed, rubbing his back soothingly. "And you've caused no trouble at all, darling. It's your father that caused all the trouble, and we won't be having to deal with him until he gets his act together."

Pulling back, Blaine blinks down at her. "What do you mean?"

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Patricia says with a quavering smile, "I kicked Walter out. He's not hurting my boys, or their loved ones, any longer. Not under my roof."

"Oh Mother, you didn't have to –"

"Yes I did, I should have a long time ago actually," she interrupts.

Cooper peeks around the door. "You should have seen her bro, she was fierce! Hot Southern rage!" he says. I get the feeling he's always been the diplomat, trying to cheer up not just his little brother, but his mother as well. All things considered, I think Blaine had a very good family here – sans his father.

Patricia rolled her eyes in a motherly fashion at her eldest son. "Cooper, I swear you just might be the death of me."

* * *

The rest of the day is surprisingly good. Father leaves seemingly without protest, no doubt moving into the most expensive hotel in the city – which still isn't saying too much because it's only just Westerville. Rachel and Quinn come over and the six of us spend our time in the family room, the girls curled up together on one of the couches, Kurt and I sitting as close together as possible without being in each other's laps. Mother and Cooper sitting in the matching armchairs. We all take turns telling embarrassing stories about each other, Kurt laughing the whole time, nose adorably crinkled.

Eventually we get him to open up a little bit about his childhood spent in France. He tells us about his childhood best friend Mercedes, whom he tragically had a falling out with; he doesn't say what it was about, but we figured he would tell us in his own time.

After coming back from dinner reservations Mother made it's rather late so everyone goes their separate ways, Mother and Coop to their bedrooms, Rachel and Quinn back to their hotel room, leaving Kurt and me in the foyer.

"So," Kurt begins, somehow looking at me coyly through his eyelashes even though he's taller than me, "did you have any plans for the evening?"

I pretend to ponder. "Hmm… Well, there was this dashing lad I was eyeing at the restaurant this evening, and I'm pretty sure he was returning the favor, so I thought I'd -"

"'Dashing lad'? Really Blaine?" he interrupts. "You already give off an old man vibe with the bow ties and cardigans – you're really gonna add to it by talking like an Oxford scholar?"

Stepping into his space, I grab onto his hips and lean forward so that my lips are brushing the shell of his ear, and whisper, "You love the bow ties and cardigans."

With a shiver Kurt pulls back, eyes half-lidded. "Maybe," he whispers in return, eyes moving back and forth, searching my own. "Would you like to find out just how much?"

Instead of answering – because I'm not sure how coherent I would be in this moment – I lurch forward and kiss him hard enough to bruise, eliciting a gasp that turns into a delicious little moan. Somehow we make it up the stairs like this, lips firmly attached, tongues searching, teeth nibbling, without tripping or stumbling too much – a major feat that I must remember to compliment Kurt on later, considering how much of a klutz he can apparently be, judging by the stories he told us. Once we get to my room I kick the door closed, and next thing I know I'm being spun around quickly and willingly pushed back onto the bed, Kurt trailing after me with his lips as I scoot back to rest against the pillows.

We make slow work of our clothes, taking our time to explore each other's bodies – Kurt making sure to pay particular attention to my tattoo and I his adorable freckles, spattered perfecting across his face, down his arms and legs, and on his abdomen – drawing out enticing moans and mewls. Finally, _finally_, after a slight hesitation to make sure we're both ready and to decide who was taking which role, we get to the best part.

And oh was it glorious, and far better than the fantasies my mind had conjured in my sleep the past few days.


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: I really hate to do this, especially so far into the story, but I really needed to change POV; it felt way too fucking awkward trying to write smut in first person. I actually don't know why I chose to write in first person in the first place; I hate first person, it's too restricting. Anyhow, we are now in third person, and at some point I'll go back and fix the other chapters, but for now just bear with me. Also this chapter's actually ridiculously short but I like the way it ends so whatever. The semester is coming to an end, and thus far nobody wants to hire me for the summer, so hopefully it won't take me terribly long to update - I don't make any promises though.**_

* * *

Christmas morning finds Kurt waking up slowly to the sun shining through the attic window and shaggy hair tickling his nose. When he looks down he sees a head of messy curls pillowed on his chest, breathing lightly, making him smile. He shifts slightly, trying to get a little crick out of the small of his back, causing the curls to nuzzle and mumble incoherently, one of their arms pulling him closer while a leg insinuates itself between Kurt's so there's now little space between the two of them.

"Blaine," he can't help but giggle as curls and scruff tickle sensitive spots on his chest. He only gets another as answer so he slowly walks the fingers of the arm wrapped tightly around Blaine down his side, letting them make their way to his backside and to a certain crease, earning him that cute little whine from the previous night and a nip to the chest.

"Mm… Best wakeup call ever," Blaine mumbles groggily and appreciatively before lifting his head and shifting again so that their bodies are lined up perfectly, letting the both of them feel each other's morning arousals. Balancing himself on his forearms Blaine leans down and kisses Kurt slowly, deeply. Rising into it, Kurt wraps his legs around Blaine's waist with a moan. Blaine threads a hand into the back of Kurt's hair, slowly inching the other hands down to grasp the both of them. With a gasp Kurt pulls away from the kiss, thrusting up into the hand wrapped around him, shuddering at the feeling of the calloused fingers and the other warm, hard cock rubbing against his own. The friction is just at the line between painful and tantalizingly glorious, numbed only slightly by the pre-cum beading out of both their heads.

After Kurt breaks the kiss Blaine moves on to nip at his collarbone, smoothing the sharper bites with little licks as he makes his way to the juncture between the neck and shoulder, leaving a small, reddish mark, before heading to the Adam's apple. The vibrations of Kurt's moan tickle his lips, making Blaine chuckle as he places chaste kisses up his chin, across his cheekbones, nose, forehead, eyelids. Kurt digs his heels into Blaine's ass, trying to get him impossibly closer and to go faster, jerk and thrust harder. Getting the picture he complies, briefly removing the hand in Kurt's hair to move one of Kurt's hands to join his own around their cocks, threading their fingers together.

As he moves his hand in tandem with Blaine's, Kurt fights not to get lost completely, determined to make the other man lose himself first – because Kurt is nothing if not competitive. So offers Blaine the fingers of his free hand to suck on, moaning deep in his chest when Blaine more than happily curls his tongue around them. Then, pulling them out this mouth with a pop, Kurt returns his fingers to their earlier exploration of Blaine's entrance, this time inserting one when the muscle gives, still a little loose from their activities mere hours ago. Before long he has three fingers submerged to the knuckle, curling in search of the prostate. When he finds it, once again drawing out the adorable whine, he keeps rubbing against it lightly and smirking as the whine ratchets ever higher in octave until Blaine comes between them with a shudder.

Kurt removes that hand, the other still working Blaine through his orgasm and bringing himself closer to climax, the cum acting as a lubricant until he comes after a few more jerks, back arching off the bed as he cries his lover's name.

After lying together cooling down for a few minutes Kurt finally unwraps his legs from Blaine's waist and runs a hand through his curls as Blaine kisses his neck lazily. "Morning," he mumbles into the skin under his lips.

Chuckling weakly Kurt keeps his hand moving to stroke down Blaine's neck and back. "Morning."

* * *

Eventually the two actually get up and shower so that no one in the house will walk in on them lying in the bed, cuddling and sharing lazy kisses and caresses whilst still being naked. They take separate showers; otherwise they would take much longer than strictly necessary and risk someone _actually _coming up to check up on them to see what's taking them so long. By ten o'clock they're showered and dressed and head downstairs to the kitchen to retrieve coffee and maybe cinnamon rolls, only to have Patricia kick them out.

"Shoo boys," she orders in her light Southern accent, pushing them toward the family room in which the tree and presents are set up. "Wait with your brother and the girls; I'll bring everything out in a minute."

Kurt can't help but protest, "Please Patricia, at least let me help carry everything out."

She relents, forcing Blaine to continue to the family room and the inevitable third degree he will get from Cooper and Rachel, as they will no doubt be able to tell something happened between Kurt and him. At least Quinn will be there to come to his rescue and reign in Rachel a bit.

As he predicted, as soon as Blaine enters the doorway Coop pounces on him. "So, squirt, how're things?" he practically leers.

"Uhh… Fine?"

Blaine can almost hear it as Rachel rolls her eyes from across the room – though that isn't an oddity in itself as this is Rachel - where Quinn is keeping her pinned to the couch with a hand on her thigh. "Please Blaine, give us some credit; we know something has changed between the two of you. So you might as well just spill."

Squirming, Blaine looks around a bit nervously. "I don't know what you mean," he says, looking everywhere but at the other people in the room and fighting hard not to blush; "you already know we've both said 'I love you' since you're the ones that locked us in the room together."

From behind him comes Cooper, slapping him heartily on the back. "C'mon Blainers, at least tell us you got some after the family dinner," he wheedles.

Parroting, and hoping that will be enough, he replies, "I got some after the family dinner."

Now he's sure he can feel Quinn, who's always known him the best, smirking across the room, hiding it behind her hand so as not to encourage Rachel – which of course does naught since she continues to barrage him with questions until Kurt and Patricia walk into the room with coffee and cinnamon rolls. Then, when Kurt walks over to Blaine with their own plate and mugs, he turns to place a chaste kiss on Blaine's cheek – resisting the urge to give his ass a light squeeze as his brother is in the same room and he is not giving Cooper cannon fodder – inadvertently revealing the hickey Blaine sucked into existence during their early morning escapades, making Rachel squeal shrilly, "I knew it!"

Jumping, Kurt glances at Rachel who is pointing at him triumphantly as Quinn shakes her head while stifling a giggle and Cooper outright guffaws in apparent triumph. Confused, he looks back at Blaine who is staring at his neck, eyes wide, mug raised halfway to his lips, and when Kurt raises his hand and touches the spot in question he simultaneously winces – _Why didn't I wear a shirt with a higher collar? Or a scarf? _– and shivers in pleasure at the memory of how he got that vaguely aching mark. So he does the only thing he can think of at the moment – he leans down the short distance between them and nudges Blaine's forehead with his nose to bring him back to the present. When Blaine's eyes shift up to meet Kurt's own Kurt smiles reassuringly, melting Blaine's slight panic instantly. After all, what does he have to panic about? Everyone there, while probably more obsessed about his love/sex life than strictly necessary and healthy, couldn't care less about how he chooses to show his love for Kurt, just as long as he's happy.

And that's possibly the best feeling in the world.


End file.
